Snow Tales
by squeekness
Summary: Book one of my Children of the Gods series. When Logan disappears while taking some time away from the X-men, Gambit's newly formed Red Team's first mission is bringing him back home.
1. Chapter 1

Summary : Book one of my Children of the Gods series. When Logan disappears while taking some time away from the X-men, Gambit's newly formed Red Team's first mission is bringing him back home.

Notes: This story takes place in Kimbleverse – wait! Don't run away, screaming. There is a short introduction provided below for those of you who haven't read any of my previous work. :)

Rated M for profanity, violence and some sexual content.

Disclaimer : I do not own the X-men or any of their associated villains, but all of the Siskans, the members of the Red Team, any of the characters that are involved with the Twilight dimension are mine. Please do not use them without my permission. Thanks. :)

This is an illustrated work and the art is or will be available soon on my website which you can get to by clicking on my profile. This book will have four chapters, a new one each week if all goes well. The updates to this and the rest of the series will come faster as I get the polishing work on the last book completed. Hopefully finally starting to get the finished parts posted will help speed me up. I'd like to think that the huge delay in getting this completed means the final product will have been worth the wait but I make no promises, lol. You'll have to decide that for yourselves. Sorry for the wait anyhow.

This will be the first book of a five book series.

I will be using (break)s instead of dotted lines or spaces to show scene changes or perspective changes. Hopefully these won't disappear over time like the others did, lol.

(Introduction)

Just a few words to bring both new and old readers up to speed here. First, this book takes place within the Kimbleverse. What the heck is that you ask? Well, a while back I began posting a long ongoing fanfiction that involved both the X-men and some characters of my own creation, most notably my own dear Kimble.

Bah, you say! Who needs OCs (other characters) anyway! Well, take into consideration that technically any new X-men after Giant Sized #1 could be considered an OC, they are not part of the original team after all. That would include some pretty big names – **Gambit**, **Wolverine**, Rogue, Storm, Emma Frost, Nightcrawler, Psylocke, all the New X-kids. Are you getting the idea now? Yes, this story has a few OCs, but I'm asking you to let them pass or fail on their own merits, not because they are not original X-men.

My stories are kinda long, but they are Gambit, Beast and Wolverine heavy throughout so that should hopefully make up for it, LOL. This series in particular will also strongly feature Kyle Gibney, or Wildchild as some know him best.

For those of you who read comics regularly, Kimbleverse isn't all that far from our familiar 616 but I have made a few small changes, making it different enough that I have dubbed my little realm Kimbleverse. Because I began writing my story ages ago, this universe ignores much of current Marvel continuity, including House of M, Civil War, the lame ass Gambit/Horseman of Death Milligan disaster, and unfortunately I am only just now beginning to touch on the delightful Wolverine Lupine arc by Jeff Loeb that began long after I had already written most of what preceded this.

Some might say, why bother continuing with Kimbleverse since I've written so much in it already? Shouldn't we all be bored with this by now? Well, these versions of the X-men are the ones I am the most familiar with now, having altered them here and there to suit my tastes. I have also fallen in love with those OCs of mine that have traveled all this long way alongside them as well. It's a weakness I hope you will forgive me for. I am also hoping that any new folks picking up from here will grow to love them as well.

I don't want to bore you all with a ton of recap material here so I will include it in this new series as needed as we go along. Those loyal and trusted friends who have already read all of my other stories can skip over the recaps as necessary. Hopefully the new folks will be able to jump in here without too much confusion (let me know if that is not the case) and it is my hope that they will like this new offering enough to want to go back and read the older stuff as well.

And now, with no further delay, here is Snow Tales, book one of my Children of the Gods series.

**Children of the Gods**

Book One ~ Snow Tales

(One)

Remy sat in the holding cell, his head down on his knees and his heart heavy. In all the encouragement and pep talks he had received the past six months praising his decision to lead a squad of fresh new recruits, none of them had covered just how he was supposed to handle hearing the sound of one of those same kids being torn apart by the bad guy. He hadn't been the least bit prepared for this and maybe if the team somehow made it back home alive, he was going to have a few choice words to say to the management about that. He could hear his recruit screaming in the next room, the sound of it breaking his heart into new pieces with each repeated cry of agony. Him as squad leader? What a joke that was, he could now see. How could he have been so stupid as to think he could ever do this well?

Two days earlier.

Remy LeBeau sat at Logan's solid wooden table, a comforting log fire burning just a few feet away in the log cabin's generous fireplace. The table itself was hard to see, buried as it was with stacks of papers and reports to be filed. At thirty five years of age, the former Thief and now reformed X-man was doing homework of all things.

About six months ago, he had gotten himself talked into transforming a squad of young recruits into becoming the well formed and talented X-men of the future. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but alas, no one had told him about the stupid writer's cramp that would accompany it. Endless forms had followed – progress reports, policy papers, change notices, recommendations, absentee reports and heaven forbid, report cards on each of his young trainees. Of course not even half of it ever made it in on time in spite of the complaints of his superiors. They really should have known better, he reasoned, it's not like he ever sent in his mission reports on time as it was.

Bored now and easily distracted, Remy found himself looking out a nearby window, watching Kimble and Aiden play outside in the snow. The pair were his Second and Third in command and had come along on this little vacation of sorts, but unlike him, they had all the time in the world to play and romp around.

Kimble was the most striking of the pair. He had the upper body and healthy muscle mass of an active thirty year old athlete, but the bottom half of him could never be mistaken for human. He had the fur covered bent hind legs of a cat which included two toed, pawed feet with a large single toe claw in between. Add to that odd combination a pair of white leathery bat wings on his back and you had a fellow that couldn't walk about in most crowds without attracting a bit of attention. Not that he wasn't easy on the eyes - for all of his strangeness, he was quite beautiful, especially when he was happy and smiling which thankfully was most of the time these days. His skin was a bright sparkling alabaster white and his hair very long and richly black, his neatly tied ponytail reached down to his waist.

Aiden was smaller than Kimble and had no trouble at all blending into normal society. He was a short fellow, standing only about five four or so, but handsome and in as good physical condition as Kimble was. Wispy blonde hair waved long around his eyes, touching his shoulders. His skin was slightly tanned and his body of the regular shape. You would never know by looking at him that like Kimble, he wasn't even close to human. In fact, neither of them would be considered organically alive.

Kimble and Aiden were part of a small collection of Siskan Courtesan holograms the X-men had come by through adventure and many tragic circumstances. These fascinating and compelling creatures were solid and real looking in all respects, but they possessed neither flesh nor blood. While they enjoyed sexual intimacy as much (or in some cases more) than any normal human, they could never reproduce or donate organs to save lives, though they were often heroic in other ways. They were fully sentient and as self aware as any human, complicated in personality and each one his own person.

Remy had been along on the mission where the Siskans had been first discovered by the X-men and he had fallen in love with them on many levels. Kimble was a personal favorite of his, they had bonded deeply and were as good as brothers. They would never be parted.

Outside the cabin, Aiden shouted something and threw a bright red tennis ball, whooping loudly as Belle, a beautiful, fully grown Golden Retriever, jumped straight into the air and caught it, neat as you please. The dog was a new addition to the family, Logan had given her to Aiden in an attempt to help the blonde Siskan overcome his fierce hatred for dogs.

Not all Siskans had a happy life and Aiden's had once been quite difficult. He had been taught to fight for money, something appalling when you consider that Siskan Courtesans like Aiden and Kimble had been created for fun in the house and bedroom. They were supposed to be safe and compliant companions, not bloodthirsty killers. Aiden had resisted the fight training and his cruel former owners had sicced dogs on him to get him to fight. The ploy had worked and for a long time the guy just outright killed dogs rather violently on sight without blinking. Logan had seen this for himself on a recent mission and while the dogs used then had been the trained protectors of the enemy, Logan had always considered animals to be innocents in battle and he did his best to remove them as a threat without having to resort to lethal means. What Aiden had done so mercilessly had shocked Logan and he had enough affection for the Siskan that he tried to set Aiden straight.

Belle was a lovely creature, but Logan had chosen her for more than just her easygoing Retriever personality. She was an older dog and so didn't have the oftentimes exasperating and overwhelming puppy energy. She didn't drive Aiden batshit crazy by always getting into stuff and breaking the many beautiful things that Kimble and Aiden had collected in the apartment they shared together. She also had another advantage that even a cute little, non-threatening puppy didn't have – she was crippled. She had only three legs, one of her front ones was entirely missing. It hadn't come from an act of cruelty, she had been born that way and with the quiet courage that most beloved pets have, she had simply worked around it and acted as if it was no big deal at all. She could run and jump with the best of them and was always cheerful and ready to play. It was the combination of her physical weakness and good heart that had finally won Aiden over and converted him into the dog lover he had now become.

Remy smiled, recalling the day Logan had brought Belle home to the Siskans. Of course Logan had made sure Remy had been present when he had come, Remy had always been the best at keeping the Siskans in line and Logan wanted him there in case Aiden flipped out. Remy hadn't been forewarned the dog was coming, that wasn't Logan's style, so even he was a bit startled by the man's choice of gift.

Aiden had stood there in numb shock at the sight of the beast, the only thing keeping him from murderous action being that one, the animal clearly belonged to Logan, and two, the animal was out of context. Aiden wasn't in the fighting ring and they weren't out in the field on a mission. It didn't stop the dark, evil colors from ripping through his shine or the low growl of rage that leaked out from his tightly clenched teeth.

Remy wasn't an X-man based on his good looks. Like most of the other team members he was a mutant and had gifts that normal humans didn't possess. His primary skill set was the ability to charge any solid object with kinetic energy from his body and use it as an explosive device. Big or small, he could control the charge as he liked and his precision was without equal. His object of choice to charge was a playing card, any suit fair game. He was never without a pack of these seemingly harmless cards and that along with his skill at the gambling table had earned him the codename Gambit.

Remy had also been trained in hand to hand combat and took to it like a natural, having also inherited a cat like agility and the flexibility any Olympic gymnast would envy. He looked like any other normal human - he was tall and thin, lithe, and a bit of head turner himself. His auburn hair was a bit long around his neck when it wasn't tied back neat and the only giveaway that he was a mutant was his peculiar eyes – his pupils were a bright red against a black sclarea, giving him almost a demonic look.

A fairly recent addition to Gambit's already impressive resume of gifts was that he was now a talented empath. That had come through adventure and pain and like most folks who made it through the tragic and the unexpected, he simply learned to use it to his advantage rather than let it ruin him. The empathy he now possessed allowed him to read the shines or auras of other people. Their moods were revealed to him in swirls of various colors and if he looked closely enough, he might even be able to score a secret or two without having to go to the trouble of picking their pockets like the good ole days. Remy had long believed that the Siskans, though not organically alive, had souls and his proof of that was that he could read their shines as easily as he could any other living creature.

Aiden's shine had gone darkly black at the sight of Belle, but Kimble had had quite the opposite reaction. Kimble was the least serious of the pair and quite child like. His emotional immaturity got him into trouble now and again, but it had also made him the most receptive to children and animals. Kimble just about squealed with excitement and went to his knees, letting an equally friendly Belle lick him all about the face.

Aiden watched this, his hands tightly fisted, but at least he stayed as he was. Because neither Siskan was organically alive, they gave off no scent. Belle had no warning to alert her to her peril. Luckily for her, the scary darkness in Aiden's shine gradually warmed into something moderately safer as Logan gruffly went through the motions of explaining the point of his unexpected visit.

"You can't be killin' off just any ole dogs you see like you did at Twilight," the man stated with his usual lack of tact, looking Aiden directly in the eyes so he would know he was serious. "Dogs ain't the enemy, the bad guys are, no matter what them other fellows taught you. This one's yers and if she ends up dead, so will you." And with that, Logan simply handed Aiden the leash and walked off without saying another word.

"Cool!" Kimble cheered, as excited as any kid at Christmas. He just loved presents, especially ones that you could play with. The face licking was an added bonus.

Aiden, however, was still standing there, just staring at Belle at a bit of a loss. It wasn't like he'd ever had a pet before. Well, Kimble had shared a cat with Remy but that wasn't the same thing. It was a less complicated animal.

"Espere," Gambit said to him, his sympathy coming with a built in Cajun accent. He hadn't lived in New Orleans in a long while, but the accent was just too lovely to part with. "Me an' Kim will 'elp you, cher. Don't you fret about a t'ing, non?"

It hadn't taken long before the dog had settled in relatively painlessly with the assistance Remy had promised and now it did seem that Aiden had indeed overcome his trouble with dogs. It hadn't been field tested of course, it wasn't like they ran across guard dogs all the time, but Remy was sure that the Siskan would at least give some thought to his actions before he did anything he might regret later.

_Dat's de way it is with us X-men, _Remy couldn't help but think as he watched the two Siskans romp outside in the snow with that magnificent canine. _We 'elp each other when we need it, even if we don't always know 'ow to ask. _

Of course, Remy hadn't really needed the dog to know that. It was in fact why he was here, the backlog of delinquent paperwork notwithstanding. This time it was Logan that had needed the help and though he hadn't asked for it, Remy and the Siskans had come here to this cabin in the snow to give it, for better or for worse.

Logan, the object of Remy's primary concern, was also outside in the snow. Like Remy, he wasn't at play alongside the Siskans – Remy wasn't sure if the gruff old man even knew what playing was or how it was done for that matter - he was chopping wood. While the activity was quite predictable when one was staying in a log cabin such as this one out in the woods, Logan had been doing it almost constantly for the whole two days Remy had been here. They now had enough wood to keep them warm for months.

Logan was as short as his temper. Small, dark and hairy, it hadn't taken much thought to decide what codename might suit him best – he was more often known as Wolverine, especially out in the field where his fearlessness, toughness, and tenacity were something of legend. Unlike Remy who was more of a city fellow, Logan was a feral creature and quite at home out here in the woods. In spite of the snow he was topless and hot from his labor, his red plaid, button down shirt hung on a nearby branch. He was stocky and much more heavily muscled than the much slimmer Remy could ever be. He handled his axe like a pro and in spite of having been at this a while, didn't look like he would tire anytime soon.

Quick to tease, Gambit would have loved to rib the guy about his cliche lumberjack apparel but he simply hadn't dared. Wolverine was grumpy enough as it was even on a good day, but something had happened over the past month, something bad enough that the ill tempered man had refused to return home, not even to see his beloved wife and kids.

Not that it was unusual for Wolverine to vanish every now and again. Sometimes he left for his own personal business – he was a solitary man by nature and marriage had been a struggle for him at times. Other times he left because Charles Xavier, the leader of the X-men, sent him off to do things that required more finesse than a team, even an accomplished one, to complete. Remy hadn't asked, but he could guess that whatever had disturbed Logan so was as a result of some mysterious errand for Charles that had gone seriously awry.

It was no great secret that Logan had spent most of his long life in the military, serving in one war after the after. His mutation had made that possible – he possessed a healing factor that allowed him shrug off most injuries without much of an effort. He was no stranger to pain and when he went after something wholeheartedly, would thoughtlessly go after it regardless of what shape he might be in when he finally got what he wanted. That same mutation had extended his life, he was well over a hundred years old even though he looked as though he was only in his mid forties.

Remy had arrived here at the cabin a couple of days ago at Charles' request. Logan had gone AWOL and while he most often returned from these absences sooner or later, this time it had been prolonged. Logan wouldn't take any of his wife's calls nor had he returned any of her messages. Carter, Logan's youngest child and his only son, wasn't taking it well. It had been over a month and Charles had felt this had gone on long enough.

Even though Logan was keeping his distance, he hadn't been that difficult to find. This cabin had originally belonged to Kimble, a gift from a former Master, but it had come into Logan's possession when it had gotten such little use. Kimble preferred to be wherever Remy was and well, the Thief just didn't camp unless it was under duress. Logan had asked to buy the place but Kimble simply gave it to him outright with the only stipulation being that the Siskans might use it from time to time. Logan had readily agreed. The arrangement hadn't been any hardship, this was the first time the Siskans had actually come out here in months.

Remy wasn't much for camping and liked snow even less, but he was close enough to Logan that when asked he didn't hesitate to agree to come out and check on him. He could use the break from teaching and well, if the cabin was too cramped, he could always sleep in the Dragon 2 if he needed to, the small aircraft that he had used to fly out here.

The Siskans had been created by an alien race, only one of many the X-men had come across in their various travels. As they made friends with these sometimes more intelligent races, the X-men absorbed whatever technology they might have had to offer. Seth, another of the Siskans that the X-men now possessed, had used some of that extra knowledge to build and design a small transport craft that used the kinetic energy from Gambit's mutation as fuel to run it. Remy had now become a pilot of sorts and the ship was his.

Gambit needed some help, though. He powered the craft, but Kimble, a powerful telekinetic in his own right, actually flew or guided the craft itself. Remy and Kimble were a team then, both were needed to fly the ship and did so with great skill. Aiden was along for the ride, he could neither power the ship nor guide it, but he had his own talents to add to this trio. He had mastered all of the technical details of the ship and could repair anything that might go wrong. He was also no slouch in the field and could hold his own in a fight. He was small but fearless and brave.

It was leading this small team of three that had planted the seed for something a little bigger in the mind of this talented Thief. After much encouragement and a bit of a push from friends and family around him, Remy had finally moved forward with forming and leading a squad of his own. Remy had Kimble and Aiden by his side helping but there was someone else that he often turned to for guidance and advice. That man was Logan.

Logan was happy to lend out his years of experience when it came to helping Gambit train the young ones. (Alas, but not with the paperwork that came along. Never that.) Wolverine was stern and gruff, a harsh taskmaster when it came to the workouts that were part and parcel of any team instruction. In spite of the abrasive packaging the advice often came in, always the tidbits of wisdom had come in handy. Logan and Remy had been friendly enough before this, but working together had given the young Thief a growing appreciation for all that Logan knew and had learned over his many long years in the service. They had grown a lot closer.

So it had come to no surprise to Logan when a couple of days ago he heard the low hum of the Dragon 2 settling down outside in his snow covered backyard. He had anticipated that Charles might send someone eventually, the only odd thing was that Remy had come alone, or alone as he ever was. The Thief was never without a Siskan or two around.

The Thief had clomped through the snow once the craft had landed, an unhappy frown on his face as he wet what looked like a new pair of boots on the way to the back door. Yup, snow was not a favorite at all of his, not at all. It was Maine in January so there was plenty of the white stuff to go around and probably more to come. Over one of his shoulders was a large leather messenger bag with full pockets. "Desole, mon ami. Stupid damn paperwork," the Thief had grumbled, stamping his boots somewhat dry on the porch. "Been shipped out 'til I catch up."

Logan had nodded at the obvious lie, but didn't fight it. Well, once Remy had spread out his glorious mess all over his table Logan saw that that much at least had been true, but the Thief's red on black eyes were ever watchful, clocking his every move.

"You bring any beer?" Logan had asked. He was slouched against a porch post, only half dressed in dirty long johns and unlaced hunting boots. This place was fairly isolated, there was no one here the man needed to impress. He held a half drunk beer in one hand, a lit cigar in the other. Logan was never the neatest fellow to begin with but he looked like he hadn't shaved in days. His eyes were small, tired, and speaking of the many sleepless nights that had gone along with his lack of shaving.

Remy's grin grew all the wider. "Bien sur. Molsen fo' you, whisky fo' me and de boys."

Logan lifted his cigar to his lips and chewed on it a bit, his eyes moving to the parked craft just a few feet away. It had taken Logan a long time to warm up to the Siskans and even now he still didn't entirely trust them. Kimble, as gentle as he most often was, had been known to have fits of violence and Logan never forgot it. The only Siskan he had never had concerns about was Seth and that was mainly because Seth was an internet hacker that stayed mostly glued to a computer and had provided Logan with just about any intel he asked for.

At the moment, though, Aiden was his new best friend. The blonde Siskan was making his own way through the crude track Remy had roughly plowed with his boots. In his arms was a large cardboard box that clinked pleasantly in a 'full of beer' kind of way. On top were some good sized packages wrapped in butcher paper. One could always count on Remy to not only bring the booze, but steaks as well.

Kimble followed behind him carrying a box of his own with more groceries. Logan could see the tops of some bread, chips, and greens. It was just as well, Logan's own supplies had run low but in his current wrecked state of mind, he hadn't had the heart to clean off the Jeep he had brought up here and drive the ten miles to the nearest town. He wasn't that disappointed to see Kimble come, at least he knew who would be doing the cooking. Kimble was quite domestic and efficient. He would no doubt soon be organizing what was left of Logan's soup cans as well.

It wasn't until Belle had come racing out last that Logan finally smiled. "Hey, girl," he praised, stooping down to receive her. She came to him in her awkward yet elegant way, she hopped a bit as she ran to compensate for her missing right front leg. It didn't keep her from efficiently licking his rough, whisker covered face. "Glad to see Aiden ain't killed ya yet."

"She bring me my szlipperz," Aiden teased in return, his voice heavy with an accent of his own. While Remy's accent was regional, Aiden's was a sign of damage. Those same losers who had trained him to fight with dogs had also melted and revived him several times. He hadn't walked away from it unscathed. "Even Keemble don' do zat, eh?"

Logan just snorted, his grin still wide. He was feeling better now, warm from Belle's unrestrained affection for him. She had been orphaned from her previous owner when a good number of people who lived with the X-men had been killed in battle. The situation had been bad enough, such losses were always hard to take, but it had also left many animals stranded. As soon as Logan had seen her, he had known just who she was meant for. It had been a good choice and he didn't need to read the shines as Remy did to know Aiden was now just as smitten with her as Kimble was.

Wolverine did sniff up at Kimble as he passed by him into the cabin and looked at Remy pointedly. "You know this place ain't real big."

"Don't worry, patron. De boys will sleep in de Dragon," the Thief replied merrily, a knowing light in his eyes.

Logan nodded, their eyes still locked. It wasn't so much the sleeping arrangements that Logan was concerned about. Kimble and Aiden, unconventional enough as they already were, were also married to each other. Siskans were randy creatures and while Logan wasn't homophobic per se, he still had no wish to catch the pair at play.

"I'll go chop some wood," Wolverine offered, standing and draining the last of his beer. It was quite early in the day, well before noon, and Remy was a bit disappointed to see that when Logan tossed the bottle into a nearby wooden bin, it had plenty of other empties to keep it company.

"Is he okay?" Kimble softly asked Remy from the doorway when Logan had gone off to the woodpile to cut some logs for the fire.

"Non, cher," Remy replied, his own voice heavy with concern. "No, 'e ain't."

He had seen Logan's shine, and while it hadn't been as murderous scary as Aiden's had been when he and Belle had first met, it was filled enough grey to be worrisome indeed. Grey was the color of those who wished for death.

**(break)**

Logan lay in his bed, his naked body wet with a sweat that had nothing to do with being overly warm. He should have been sleeping peacefully – he had spent most of the past two days of Remy's visit drinking heavily and when he hadn't been doing that, he had been chopping wood just to keep from sitting around too much.

Wolverine normally would have found Remy and the guys intrusive in this solitary retreat, but in his rough state of mind, oddly found their noise somewhat soothing. He never would have said so out loud of course, that wasn't his way, but it was nice to come inside and find everything tidied up and the smell of something roasting in the oven. Kimble, in spite of his many somewhat irritating oddities, was a master at domestic orderliness. Kimble never complained about the mess, he simply cleaned it up with a smile as if this was just the way things should be.

Aiden had offered Logan his own form of comfort - they had gone hunting out in the woods a couple of times. They hadn't taken any guns, it was a favorite pastime of Logan's to see just how close he could get to a deer and simply touch it. Aiden had been quiet and patient as they had rambled through the woods and was learning to track by Logan's instruction and enjoying the diversion. The snow could tell good stories, Logan had said, if you only knew how to read them. Aiden, like all the Siskans, learned very quickly and Logan seldom had to repeat himself. If Aiden had any questions they were only in regards to the task at hand, never about what was troubling Logan so, and they were communicated by sign language, a handy tool to have out here in the quiet. Aiden never once flushed out their targets prematurely or by accident and Logan's respect for him continued to grow.

Logan had needed the distraction of the bloodless hunting and the teaching that had gone with it. It was too dangerous to let his mind wander these days, to go back to what he had done. To what Charles, that damned old fool, had dared to ask him to do, knowing full well he was leading Logan into certain horror.

Wolverine's dreaming body, now left to its own devices, was drifting back to those places his waking mind had not dared to go. His mind was traveling, returning to the scene that he was sure he would remember no matter how many more stupid brainwipes he might undergo. How could he forget such a thing? It was impossible.

It had all started with a favor. A month ago, Charles had called him into his office and told him some startling news. "We have discovered the source of the Flush."

The Flush was a highly contagious, flu like virus that was reaping havoc through the non-mutant human population on the east coast. It was called the Flush because while it first presented as a normal flu, it also came with a terrible and painful red rash that covered the skin. Details were sketchy, but initial reports were saying that it made mutants sick for a day or so, but the normal humans all died, suggesting it was somehow man made and deliberately placed. The CDC had long been thinking that this was no ordinary virus and they had been right. Hank McCoy, the X-men's own highly intelligent doctor, had finally discovered that this virus was likely being initially spread by a mutant, one that might not even be aware he was doing it at all. It had become imperative that this mutant be found and stopped by any means necessary.

Logan was a practical man, he knew what was meant. Thousands of people had died and the government had even gone to the point of quarantining large populations into detainment camps in an attempt to contain the spread of the virus. What was the death of one more person against all that expense and loss of life? If they could stop the original source of the virus, then maybe the rest of it could be eventually contained and eliminated.

Wolverine had stood patient and quiet in Charles' office while the man had laid out all the good news. Not only had they discovered that the Flush was indeed being spread by a mutant, Charles himself had been able to locate and pinpoint the individual himself.

Professor Charles Xavier was no ordinary man, no leader of such powerful and extraordinary people could have been. Charles was a powerful telepath, perhaps the most powerful one that currently resided on this planet called Earth. Not only was he telepathic, but he had surrounded himself with as much mutant scientific talent as he could muster. Together they had created Cerebro, a device the Professor often used to locate other mutants around the world. It had taken some time, but now the exact source of this deadly disease had been found.

Logan had listened as the particulars of the job were explained, his body quiet but his mind racing. He had one big question – Why was it that if this source had been found that Charles was deploying him privately instead of asking SHIELD, a highly trained organization that specialized in Homeland Security, to handle it? Perhaps it was because Charles knew that the Flush was fatal only to non-mutant humans and hadn't wanted to put SHIELD personnel at possible risk. It could also be that Logan, with his healing factor, wouldn't even feel the moderate effects that mutants had when infected. It wasn't until Logan had gotten to the scene itself and had gone right to work, that he realized just why he had been asked, and by then it was too late to do anything about it. There had been no time not to finish what he had been sent there to do.

Before all that of course, Logan had readily agreed to go where the Professor had asked, especially when it seemed that this mutant, whomever he was, seemed to be spending as much time as he could in train stations, as if he was in fact aware of what he was doing and was deliberately trying to infect as many people as possible. One person, once initially infected, could then also in the next twenty four hours infect as many others as they came in contact with. And so and so on. It was why the number of fatalities was swiftly getting out of control.

Logan had traveled quickly to the Amtrak terminal in Washington DC, just as Charles had directed him to. He had flown out on his own, using none of the X-men transports as this was a private mission known only to him and Charles alone. There were certain things that the whole team just wasn't privy to, at least, not until the mission was over and the goal finally accomplished.

Wolverine had been given no description of this mysterious mutant, something unusual. Cerebro was usually fairly accurate, right down to a face, but Charles had only given him vague details – the mutant was female and wore a red woolen coat with a matching knitted scarf.

Logan strode into the train station and began his investigations, inconspicuously looking over the crowd. Hank had very carefully given Logan a tiny sample of the Flush virus to sniff in the hopes of giving Logan at least something to start with. At first Wolverine was dismayed by how difficult this might be, the place was filled with human scents, but beyond that there were more than a few vendors selling their wares – coffee, popcorn and the like – to overload the air and make it difficult to track what Logan was looking for.

He hadn't been there long when something – or someone, rather – most definitely caught his eye. About a year back the X-men had taken on a powerful mutant terrorist named Jael. The two armies had clashed at the Complex and the ensuing battle had been brutal and ugly, costing many lives. It was the reason poor Belle had been left on her own and it wasn't something that Logan or any of the X-men who had been there would readily forget. Jael himself hadn't lived to fight another day but it seemed that some of his people had. Logan was now looking on the face of Marcus, a former member of Jael's inner posse.

Marcus usually stood out in a crowd, he had a normal human body, but also had a pair of brown feathered wings, wings he was now doing his best to hide. He had covered himself in an oversized, olive colored rain poncho with a large backpack on his back, the combination lumpy enough that he wasn't as conspicuous as he normally was. He also usually sported a Mohawk haircut and while most of that still remained, he had grown out the sides so that it wasn't as blatant as it typically was either.

Marcus wasn't alone. At his side was his traveling companion, a female that was indeed dressed in a red coat with a matching knitted scarf. Them being together left Logan no doubt that this was a deliberate attack against normal humans by what was left of Jael's terrorist cell. Well, at least that was Marcus' intention at any rate. One look at the supposed mass murderer had Logan's heart pounding, not only with the thrill of the hunt, but with a rage so profound, his body could hardly contain it. How dare Charles do this to him?! He was no mindless point and shoot weapon, not anymore. Damn you, Charles! Damn you to hell and back again!

There was no doubt about the information Charles had given him either. Logan could smell the Flush virus wafting right off of her skin like a poisonous fume only his powerful feral senses could detect. His healing factor had come with three additional side dishes – he had enhanced sight, smell and hearing. In so many ways Logan was more animal than man – he had all the best talents of any woodland creature but with the higher intelligence of a human. It was what had made him the better soldier all those years, he had advantages over his compatriots and not just because he could shrug off a bullet.

Sadly though, as certain as he was that she was in fact the one spreading this terrible disease, he knew it was impossible that she was even aware that she was doing it. Not that it mattered any, Logan knew that just by her being there, right here, right now, all the people currently in this train station were going to die, the norms anyhow. Mutants could be infected, but they always shrugged it off as a bad cold, nothing more. The station was full, there had to be hundreds of people here. The thought of it made Logan's blood boil.

Back in the cabin, Logan moaned in his sleep, tears leaking from his eyes as he relived that horrible day. He saw Marcus' head turning towards him, a reaction to the growl that Wolverine, in his enraged state of mind, hadn't been able to stop. Marcus immediately began to run, dragging Logan's intended target with him. She looked back at Logan as she stumbled along - her pursuer, her soon to be executioner - her face at once so terribly innocent, the next terrified. Terrified because she was... she was...

Wolverine bolted upright in his bed, choking on the scream that wanted to come howling on out. The first night Remy had slept here the scream - check that, his _**roar**_ of mental agony - had made it all the way out and then the Thief had been right there. Right in the way and hovering awkwardly in a mothering, smothering, maddening way. Logan didn't want babysitters, he hadn't asked for Remy to come, neither him nor his stupid troublesome Siskans that weren't so much children as they were fucking babies...!

_No, that's just the rage talking_, Logan now thought to himself as he tried to calm himself. He didn't really mean that. His body was well trained and this second night, it had quieted its own noise, he had been too well programmed not to. He sat there a moment, his hands over his mouth to cover the sound of his heaving breaths, his ears straining to hear if Remy was in fact stirring in the next room.

He wasn't, and when Logan was sure of it, couldn't stop the single humiliating, traitorous, heart breaking sob that leaked out between his fingers. Damn Charles, damn him for making sure his soul was damned to hell, when before it was merely questionable. What Charles had made him do there was no coming back from. It was impossible. For a moment Logan shuddered as the face of his most dearest possession flashed before his eyes - Carter, his three year old son. How could he ever look that precious child in the face ever again?

Disgusted now with his own pathetic weakness, Logan rose from his bed, throwing the covers off with a soft snarl of rage. How was he supposed to live with himself now?

He didn't bother to dress but snuck outside as quietly as he could. He needn't have worried, one sniff told him why Remy hadn't even so much as rolled over by his waking - the Thief had drunk more than his share of the whisky he had brought and was out cold, intoxicated. There had been a card game that night, but Logan hadn't been in the mood and had slunk off to bed early. Remy and the Siskans had continued without him, drinking and laughing until quite late. They had much to celebrate - Remy had finally finished his paperwork and well, Kimble had baked enough brownies to feed all the starving children in Africa. Even Logan had made sure to grab a few of those sweet chewy gems before slinking off to bed.

Logan didn't begrudge the boys their play. He knew why the Thief not only hated camping (a cabin in the woods would be camping by the standards of any ex-New Orleans resident), but disliked snow even more. Having once been stranded in Antarctica would do that to a fellow, but that's not part of this tale. The booze and the play kept the bad dreams away, at least for redeemed thieves.

Logan had no time to dwell on troubles that were not his own. He slipped out the back door and stood on the front porch, his time weathered body not the least bit fazed by the icy chill and snow that played about against his skin. No, he had once run with the wolves and at the moment, nothing sounded better than to do it again and leave humankind behind for good. One thing about animals - they rarely passed judgement and could care less about pesky, unimportant human crimes.

He took a step into the snow, anticipating the freedom to come, but then froze, not from the sudden chill to his foot, but when he thought he heard a soft voice came drifting out from the nearby trees. "James..." it whispered. "James..."

Logan growled softly and popped the claws on one hand.

Like Remy, Logan had more than just one gift in his bag of tricks. Yes, he could rapidly heal from just about any injury and well, that particular trick had landed him on some military jackass's experiment table. The cruel men of the Weapon X program had thought it might be profitable to make a man indestructible and Logan had unknowingly pulled that particular winning lottery ticket, his mutation pushing him all the way to the front of the line. The intention had been to merely coat his bones with Adamantium, the hardest metal currently known to man, and turn him into their personal point and click assassin. What the scientists hadn't counted on were the six bone claws he had managed to hide in his arms all this time, three to a limb. Logan had now become the beneficiary to built in knives, their edges sharp enough to cut through just about anything. He had broken away from his tormentors and even though he had never asked for them, had now lived with these enhanced claws for so long now that using them came without a thought or care.

Outside in the snow, Logan now sniffed the air, making good use of his feral sense of smell. Even without a definitive scent Logan just knew his late night caller was not his friend. The hairs rising along his back and neck told him so and his instincts were seldom wrong.

"Who are you?" he asked the wind, his voice as low as the whisper that had come to him first.

"Do you really wonder why it was you that Charles sent out on that last mission..?" came the non-answer reply to his question. "Well, I know..."

Logan bristled. What? Even here he could find no peace. Some loser ex-enemy (of which he had many) had followed him here and wanted to play. Well, you know what? That was just fine, really. If he couldn't tear apart the man who so richly deserved the full brunt of his wrath, here was someone he could take out his frustrations on.

"Show yerself, coward!" Logan challenged, still keeping his voice down. Just because Remy was drunk didn't mean he couldn't be roused. X-men were uncanny that way, always seeming to know when they were needed. But this time, Logan didn't want the interruption. He would take care of this himself.

The only response was a deep throated, cackling laugh. As if in answer, a wolf howled off in the distance, almost as though it had anticipated the fight to come.

It was enough of an excuse. Logan launched himself, running out to the trees, his eyes wild, ready for blood. It would be so sweet. So sweet.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes – Thanks everyone for checking out my latest efforts (especially you, Liz!). I know the first chapter was short so here's a little more.

(Two)

Gambit came awake with a startled snort. His sleep hadn't been much better than Logan's. It was the snow, you see. The cold brought back so many memories that he would much rather forget. It never failed – the crunch of rock hard snow under his feet, the way the frosty air froze the delicate hairs of his nose - and he was there, back in Antarctica, freezing his damn ass off. No matter where he was whenever a first wave of cold would hit him, it always forced him to compare - was this as bad as that had been? As if anything could be. It would bring on a brief but sickening twinge of fear, the same way a man who had once drowned might shiver at the first plunge into the water. It didn't stop Remy from going out into the cold, but he could never forget being abandoned there. When Charles Xavier had talked him into coming out here to the cabin he had no real idea of just what he had asked of him.

Remy sat up in his bed, momentarily confused as to where he was. The weight of his extra blankets reminded him and he shivered there a moment wondering just what it was that Charles had expected him to do out here. After two days and nights Logan still hadn't even so much as hinted at what was troubling him. Perhaps the time for skipping the questions had passed and he should just approach the man directly instead.

Time for that later, it was still a bit dark out at the moment and now, with the cold hitting him, he really needed to pee. He shuffled off to the bathroom, did his business, and was heading bleerily back to bed when he realized that the back door was open. Yeah, the Siskans had left for bed late, but Remy had seen to it that the door had been shut nice and tight before he himself had gone off to his own rest. So why was it open now? Maybe Logan had been restless and decided to go outside for a smoke.

There was shift in the wind and a not so wonderful icy breeze nudged the door a little. Remy shivered hard, grumbling about inconsiderate, grumpy, hairy men and went to close it. The moment his hand touched the handle, the breeze once more crept in, causing a paper on the table to rustle. Remy's head turned at the sound of it and he squinted, seeing a note there, pinned down by one of Logan's last remaining soup cans.

"Don't even tell me..." Remy complained out loud to the empty room. It would be just like Logan to just take off after Remy had wasted two whole days here getting nowhere. His irritation changed to bewilderment as he read what was written there in Logan's jagged scrawl – _"Are ya bored yet, boys? Me, too. How about a game? It's called 'Catch me if you can.' Go and get the kids. Call it a drill if ya want, but it'll be fun just the same. I'll try not to make it too hard for ya. - Logan." _

"De 'ell?" Remy again questioned to the now empty cabin. "Dis fo' real?"

Looking out the back door, he could now see the dark shadows of footprints leading out into the trees that he had overlooked before. There had been no new snow overnight, the tracks were as crisp as when they were first made. Remy just stared at them, his own bare feet growing uncomfortably colder by the second. Was it unusual for Logan to want to drill the squad kids? Not really. Had Gambit asked him for help a great many times? Absolutely. So why were all of his alarm bells going off? Was he just being paranoid?

"Humph, paranoid or non," he grumbled to himself, "It don't 'urt to bring de kids out, just fo' a look around."

He went back to his room and dressed quickly. He left the cabin as it was and stomped through the snow to the Dragon 2. The craft itself wasn't that large and fit comfortably in Logan's good sized backyard. It was comparable to a generous Lear jet and had been designed for transport and rescue. It hadn't been weaponized beyond having a tow cable and some grappling type hooks installed. Logan had grumbled about it needing a Gatling gun or two but Remy had so far resisted, thinking that was counter to the craft's purpose.

Remy entered the ship, not surprised to find the inside pleasantly warm and comfortable. While the Siskans didn't mind the occasional romp in the snow, they shared his dislike for the constant cold. The Dragon 2 was mainly for transport so it wasn't all that large - it consisted of a single large cabin with a short row of comfortable, plushy passenger seats in the back. Behind that wall was a small lavatory. The front wall of the room was taken up by a huge viewing screen, not unlike a giant movie theater screen, that acted as a window while they flew but was also capable of giving them many different views around the outside of the craft. In the center of the room were two odd looking chairs that resembled racing motorcycles. These were the pilot seats and where Remy and Kimble worked side by side when they flew this magnificent machine. These chairs were adjustable to the extreme degree that they could even be slept on during a flight.

Kimble and Aiden had taken advantage of the cozy space in between the two pilot chairs and had spread out several sleeping bags in layers to make a snuggly, comfortable bed. At the moment Kimble was the only one in it, sprawled out on his belly in a beautiful pose, the blankets slipped low enough down his back that Remy could see he was naked. He was out cold and snoring softly, his shine full of sparkling happiness.

Belle was beside him, taking up the space that Aiden had vacated. She wagged her tail at him in greeting but was much too warm and comfortable to rise herself.

It wasn't unusual for Kimble to be in bed alone, he slept more than the rest of his Siskan kin and plenty more than Aiden who could get by on only just a couple of hours a night. Aiden, while absent from the bed, was still around and close by. The blonde Siskan came to the door of the lav, having heard Remy enter. The lav had no shower but it did have a sink. He leaned in the doorway, still wet from an improvised wash and was just as bare as Kimble was.

Because he wasn't wearing any clothes, Aiden's large Yellow Mark could now be easily seen. The Mark looked like a large elaborate tattoo, but since he wasn't organically alive, it was simply part of his skin and not real. His Mark was a golden colored, winged woman who lay seductively along the edge of a dark colored sword that ran from Aiden's collar bone down past his navel. It was beautifully made as if only freshly applied and covered most of Aiden's chest and belly. Each of the Siskans that the X-men now possessed had come from a single, specially Marked clutch and each one had the same tattoo although each had their own color. Aiden's was the golden yellow and Kimble's a dark purple.

At the moment, Marks were the last thing on Aiden's mind. Not the least bit shy about being caught nude, he grinned at the Thief now and took a pose against the doorjam, deliberately preening for the Cajun in a playful tease.

Remy smiled with some amusement but wasn't about to fall for it. While it was true that he had shared a few rounds of sexual play with more than one member of the small collection of Siskans that currently resided with the X-men, that had been before he had married and like Logan, had kids of his own. It didn't mean he didn't appreciate the view.

The Siskans had been created for pleasure, that was no secret, but the X-men had tried to integrate them into normal society as much as possible. All but two had married or were as good as married to their present owners, and had left that former life behind. Aiden was one of those who had married, yes, but he hadn't been so for very long. Aiden still found it hard not to flirt and tease when given an opportunity.

This was the first and only time in their long lives that both Kimble and Aiden had been monogamous and Remy was still somewhat dubious that they could pull it off in the long run. The Siskans in general hadn't been made for it so it was something of an adjustment. So far, though, they had been keeping it together well enough. Kimble wasn't jealous of his playful husband's flirtations, instead he most often found it funny and could have cared less about it. He was Siskan himself and understood these things very well, but it was something that drove Logan nearly mad. Wolverine had no patience for anyone with a such a lack of sexual modesty and it was the biggest reason that he never fully trusted Aiden even as he had grown to respect him in the field. He was too unpredictable.

Remy had grown numb to it all and wasn't the least bit fazed by anything Aiden had done in the past or even by what he was currently doing now. The fact was the Thief had spent so much time in the company of these complex, maddening, and oh so wonderful creatures that he was just plain used to this sort of thing. At times, because he had bonded so closely with Kimble, Remy actually considered himself more Siskan than human these days. Dealing with their peculiarities was simply business as usual for him and his voice was light with humor as he said, "De'sole, no time to play, mon ami. We gotta get Kim up and go."

Aiden just chuckled and still feeling just a bit rebellious, shifted skins. Where there had once been a man, there was now one of the most breathtakingly beautiful brunettes Remy had ever seen. She was just as naked as the man had been and her skin glistened tantalizingly with droplets of water that hadn't quite dried yet. Remy shivered at the sight of this more appropriate skin, he couldn't help it. He was still a man after all. The skin was not new to Gambit, it was the one Aiden had used to seduce him a great many years ago when they had first met.

As was mentioned before, most of the Siskans the X-men possessed had seen hard times. Aiden was one of the lucky ones who could still change his appearance, though he did it very rarely. They couldn't look like just anybody as some shape shifters did, but could only use whatever skins they had loaded into their memory drives. The last Remy knew, Aiden had several skins, but he most often wore the pretty blonde male one. Full of Siskan pride, Aiden demanded of most folks that he be accepted just as he was. Since the Siskans had been man made and their skins chosen by others, they were in fact genderless, something that many people still had a hard time grasping. Remy had long since given up trying to make that point to others but Aiden sometimes still liked to push it, it was just part of his nature and not something that was going to change any time soon Remy could see.

"I mean it, cher," Remy chided, though his eyes never left her face. He hadn't been able to resist Aiden back when they had met but that had been a long time ago. He knew that this was just Aiden playing around now just because he could. It wasn't a serious flirtation. "We got no time fo' games. Sumptin's up wit Logan."

"What now, eh? 'E trip over 'isz laszt bottle?" Aiden joked, still not quite grasping the seriousness of this. He did at least give up on his little game without a fuss and shifted back into his regular skin before reaching for a towel, his hair was still wet.

"Don' know, just dat sumptin' ain't right. 'E leave dis."

Aiden came out of the lav, his pants over one shoulder, and took the note Gambit was now holding out. He read it and with a soft frown of confusion, glanced up at his Captain. "Disz juszt a note, eh? 'E wish to play a game. Mebbe it make 'im feel better, non?"

"Since when did Logan ever play at anyt'ing?" Remy challenged gently. This was quite serious, he just knew it, and his instincts were seldom wrong.

Aiden couldn't help but smile just a little as he cautiously replied, "Mebbe it been szo long szince we been out in ze field, you szee szumptin' dat isz not zere, eh?"

"Could be true," Remy admitted, smiling himself in return. Aiden was like this, direct and to the point when it counted. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind, not when it was important. It didn't make Remy change his mind however. "But lets keep our 'eads up, just in case."

His tone gave Aiden pause. He pulled on his pants, his shine swirling with color as he tried to figure out the best way to respond. He couldn't argue with his Captain's logic. It was always better to be safe than sorry. "You want me to call back 'ome? Wake up ze kidsz?"

"Oui. Tell dem dat it's first come first serve. De ones ready when we get dere de only ones who get to play. Dat'll get dem movin'. We gotta get back 'ere before de trail get too cold."

"Aye," Aiden replied, all business now. He reached for his phone and began texting a special code that would send an activation message back home. They could be landing there in as little as thirty minutes so the kids would have to make this snappy if they wanted in on it.

Remy meanwhile stood next to Kimble and gently toed him with his boot. "Rise and shine, sleepy'ead. We gotta go."

Kimble groaned in protest and turned his head away. While Aiden had showed no effects of the little drinking party the trio had shared last night, Kimble had drunk enough to still be a bit intoxicated. He could have easily slept for another couple of hours. "Lemmie 'lone..." he slurred into his pillow and stayed as he was. Being drunk, his normal redneck drawl was even more exaggerated as usual. Most of the Siskans the X-men had collected from this strange, Marked clutch spoke with this same accent. Only Aiden and Seth were excluded – Aiden from being damaged, Seth because he was a living, separated fragment of Kimble's own original programmed personality. The drawl Kimble spoke with was somewhat disarming, it often made him appear less intelligent than he really was. Kimble was gentle and sweet, but he was far from stupid.

Gambit would have loved to have let Kimble sleep but he needed Kimble to fly and they had lost too much time already. He had no idea just how long Logan had been gone. He bent and whipped off the last of Kimble's blankets and pushed his shoulder again, this time a little less gently. "No foolin', Kim. Git yo' ass up. We gotta roll."

Kimble grumbled again but he got moving. He was sluggish and slow, not quite steady when he finally made it to his feet. He jumped a bit when Remy reached over to the nearest pilot chair and gave one of the handles a quick, sharp charge of kinetic energy. This was called 'boosting', the charge was just enough to boot up the engines and get the craft warmed up.

Kimble stumbled into his own seat more than actually sitting down into it and went through the opening procedures, still rubbing his eyes. While he did that Remy glanced at Aiden, an idea having crossed his mind.

"Aiden?"

"Aye, Captain?"

"Mebbe you should stay behind, keep an eye on t'ings til we get back."

"My pleaszure," Aiden agreed, easy to please. He grabbed his heavy jacket and an Away Pack from one of the cubbies. The pack had a change of clothing, a camera, some cold rations, a flashlight, matches, the usual camping type gear just in case a person might get stranded. Use of the pack was always standard procedure anytime something wasn't quite right. In theory he probably wouldn't even have need of it.

"This that serious?" Kimble asked softly, his awakening eyes showing the first flickers of anxiety.

"It not'ing," Aiden soothed and gave Kimble's cheek a kiss. He lay Kimble's pants in his lap before he made for the door, a wordless reminder that the pilot was still undressed.

"You can look around a bit," Remy said before Aiden made it all the way out. "But don't go too far, sil vous plait? Don' need to be lookin' fo' two of you instead of just de one, eh?"

Aiden just flashed him a winning smile. "Don' worry about a t'ing."

Aiden went out the door and it was just Remy and Kimble alone in the ship. Kimble was more awake now, his concern had made him so, and once he had dressed they were on their way back to Arizona.

(Break)

The Dragon 2 touched down on the runway, neat as you please, a mere thirty minutes after Remy had toed Kimble awake. The X-men's current home was a large three story glass and stone professional building smack in the middle of an Arizona industrial complex out in the desert. Charles Xavier had wanted as much privacy as he could manage and so had bought up all the surrounding buildings as well, making them appear to be fully functioning work sites. The buildings were only a front - deep under the ground was a complicated maze of tunnels and housing blocks that connected them all, a buried city if you will.

It had been the plan that this would be a secure site to keep a large mutant community out of the firing range of government agencies that wanted them all to register and from anti-mutant hate groups who wished them harm. It hadn't gone as well as planned – after they had been besieged by the powerful terrorist, Jael, they were no longer secret and not entirely safe though they had done their best to correct the many weaknesses that had left them so vulnerable.

Remy disembarked the ship quickly, taking Belle with him – a potential mission was no place for a dog - and was happy to see that a small group of sleepy eyed kids had mustered there to greet him. Remy had chosen all of his prospects carefully, labeling his bunch the so called "last chance" crew because so many of them had been rejected from other teams for various reasons. He had seen something in them that others hadn't. He had fully expected a number of them to have dropped out on their own, the training could at times be difficult, but so far that hadn't happened. That meant he still had a large number of recruits on hand and Remy was still in the process of whittling down the number. He was having a tough time choosing from amongst them, they had all worked so hard, harder than anyone else had expected them to, and he just didn't have the heart to eliminate any of them. At the moment he was in luck, less than half of his squad had actually responded to Aiden's texted scramble.

They were dressed in their new squad uniforms, all in black with pink pin-striping and patches. They were technically the Red Team, but the way the squads worked, the color darkened as they progressed through their training. Their markings were pink now because they were only newly formed and pretty green, all Level Ones, but it would be magenta next, working its way up to the dark crimson of the fully trained. Each kid also had their own Away Pack loaded with survival gear and they all had good thick jackets on in preparation for the cold weather. Aiden had been thoughtful and precise with his scramble, no one would have to go back for anything. The kids looked eager and happy, something a bit unexpected at this early hour. It seemed they were much better at getting up early than Remy was.

Up front was Malcolm, a big green skinned bruiser who fancied himself the most in charge. Remy had yet to pick a squad leader to be his Second as far as the kids went and it was no secret that Malcolm wanted that position all for himself. Malcolm was well muscled and strong but also suffered from a bit of a temper. He oftentimes got a bit ahead of himself and he stood proudly now, his chest out and doing his best to get Remy's full attention. He wanted to appear to be the most ready and the best prepared for this unexpected drill. On top of his big size, he was a bit furry and had a shaggy doggie tail to match. He had sharply pointed ears and his hair was a tad long, making him look much older than his seventeen years. His codename was Hercules because of his enhanced strength and size.

To Hercules' right stood a tall, pale, dark haired boy with a large, jagged scar that ruined one side of his face. His name was Dominic Slav, but they mostly called him TrueBlood around here, a nod to the popular TV series about vampires. Dominic did not possess super strength nor enhanced senses. He could neither shapeshift nor power ships with self generated energy. TrueBlood's gift was simple – you drink his blood, you would heal from any injury inflicted on you. Sadly, TrueBlood couldn't heal himself, the ugly scar on his face testified to that. He had been in a horrible rollover car accident and while trapped in his seat only half conscious, he had watched as his own blood dripped down into the mouth of his younger sister. He saw her heal before his very eyes, but yet he had walked away forever horribly disfigured. He was a bitter lad and solitary. He hadn't actively asked to join the squad, he had simply gone along with it once invited because all the squad kids got better quarters. He no longer had to share a room with anyone.

Beside TrueBlood and looking much smaller and rumpled in comparison was Tristan Rodgers. He had just turned twenty but he may as well have been fifteen because of his nerdy-ness and lack of build. It didn't help that his hair was bright red and his face generously peppered with bright auburn freckles. His talent was the ability to possess and control the minds of animals, so most folks simply called him Dewy as his codename, short for Dr. Doolittle.

On Dewy's shoulder was perched a very tiny girl not even two feet tall. Her name was Sheila Darwin and she was dressed all in black, a little Goth Barbie doll. She and Dewy were inseparable, perhaps because they both got ribbed the most on this squad. Malcolm was rather hard on his teammates, especially those whose talents he simply didn't understand. He couldn't fathom why Remy had selected either of them. It wasn't like they could fight or anything. Sheila's codename was Tink, short for Tinkerbell, on account of her small size. Tink, being so small, always traveled with Dewy in a special pocket he had outfitted on his Away Pack. It might have looked a bit odd but it worked, and Remy was pleased with it. It was the type of innovation and teamwork he was working so hard to get these kids to embrace.

In front of Dewy, hunched on the tarmac, was a young looking feral man, his long blonde hair loose with the tangles covering most of his face. This boy was far older than he looked - he had a healing factor comparable to Logan's and it had kept him youthful. Kyle Gibney was currently dressed in the team colors – though he wore a thick sleeveless vest instead of a full jacket. Like Logan, he wasn't as sensitive to the bitter cold. He was wearing the black and pink at the moment but he usually spent most of his time in the prisoner orange that marked most of the residents of the Complex's small jail and holding section. Unlike the others who had nice little rooms in a common dorm, Kyle's quarters were located there as he was being detained indefinitely and was on probation for violent behavior. At least he was doing better these days, so well that he was in fact on his way to earning a full release. He had clawed hands and a snouty face that housed his elongated canine teeth. His legs were crooked and bent like a cat, making him look even more like an animal in spite of the claws and fangs. He had the full gamut of enhanced senses – eyesight, hearing, smell. He was Remy's tracker and still feral enough that the Thief had given him the codename Ripclaw.

Behind him stood a pretty blonde girl. She looked normal in most respects except for two goat like horns that came out of her forehead. Her eyes were also slotted like a goat's but these things took away nothing from her natural beauty. This was Grace and she positively glowed. Her light came from an inner happiness that she simply couldn't contain. Of all the kids that Remy had on his squad, Grace was the most comfortable with her mutations and herself. She was what she teasingly called a weregoat because she could shapeshift easily back and forth between a goat and her more human appearance. She could also see in different spectrums of light, another asset. She was quick to joke and to share and so Remy had given her the codename Jester. Remy noted that today she was wearing a thin vanity scarf high around her throat. It wasn't regulation since they had been called to scramble in uniform but given the short notice he chose not to trouble her about it. Knowing her free spirit, he had an idea she might be hiding a hickey or two, but he wouldn't have had a clue who the lucky fellow might have been nor would he ask. He did his best to stay out of the personal lives of his kids, just getting them trained was trouble enough without adding that to the list.

Next to Grace stood another young man just as troubled as TrueBlood was. He was dark skinned and carried a perpetual frown on his face. His given name was Charlie Wilson but he refused to answer to it, only respecting those who called him Trigger. It was a name well earned on account of his hair trigger temper. He had been added to the squad at Logan's suggestion because his mutant ability was electrical in nature. He could make small lightning bolts and sparks. It was a little known fact, but the Siskans' primary weakness was that a big enough electrical charge could take them down rather easily. Logan had suggested that Remy keep such a sparkler around in case one of his Siskans flipped out and got out of control. Remy didn't like the idea of it but he understood the necessity of taking precautions and so had grudgingly complied with the request. Trigger was his walking control device.

Rounding out the girl section of the team were a couple of younger gals – young blonde Tilda could manipulate water, sustaining her own life by living in it if needs be. Beside her stood Izzie, a little dark purple skinned fairy girl with wings. Neither one was physically strong, but that wasn't all Remy looked for in his squad. Both of these gals were above average smart and balanced up for the more brawnier males.

Last but not least stood Julien Tanner, a young man apart. Julien was Remy's son, but they had only known about each other for less than a year. He was the child of a girl Remy had been intimate with only once and she had kept the resulting pregnancy a secret. Remy had been reunited with Julien six months ago or so when the X-men had run down a religious anti- mutant hate group run by a man named Jason Frost. Frost had been using mutant children as slave labor, slaves that had included Remy's estranged son. Also among those slaves were several of the kids currently in Remy's squad, but unlike them, Julien had been somewhat brainwashed by Jason Frost and had become Frost's assistant.

Frost had believed that all mutants were sinners - the more obvious the mutation, the more that poor kid must have sinned whether they admitted to it or not. It was a belief system that he had driven deeply into Julien's poor broken mind and one Julien still clung to to this day. As far as the other kids were concerned that made Julien as good as the enemy and he had been having a tough time of it here ever since the kids had been liberated. Remy had wanted him on the squad in the hopes that if Julien worked hard enough he might redeem himself in the eyes of his peers. So far not much had changed. Remy had tried to pick out some sort of codename for him but Malcolm had dubbed him 'Judas' and unfortunately it had stuck.

At the moment Julien looked battered and tired. He had inherited not only Gambit's ability to produce bio-kinetic energy, but also his slim build and high metabolism. Julien's childhood had been one of bitter abuse and neglect. In spite of the much improved care he was receiving now, he still struggled to gain weight and lose that haggard look of perpetual malnutrition. Julien and Remy didn't often see eye to eye, but Julien and Kimble were close enough that Kimble, who loved to cook, was always trying to get something into the lad. Today, though, Julien looked worse than usual and Remy wasn't sure if he wanted to know why. They had trouble enough with Logan's little stunt already.

Julien wasn't completely alone, standing beside him almost protectively was Molly, Remy's loving wife. She wasn't a member of any squad including this one but had come to greet her husband just the same. Molly was fair haired and had a pretty smile but she wasn't what you would call lovely. Part of that was due to the feral genes she had inherited as her mutation, leaving her somewhat hairy and with the same clawed hands and feet as Kyle had. They were not technically related, Molly and Kyle, but could still be confused as brother and sister at first glance. Remy couldn't have cared less what Molly looked like, it was her beautiful heart that had called to him and he had no plans of leaving.

Like him, she had wanted a family and just Remy's luck, today she brought along their young twins, Jean-Luc and Sandy. They were Remy's pride and joy and he was overjoyed to see them, he had missed them so. They had missed him too, he could read it in their bright loving shines as he gave each a loving kiss. They gurgled at him happily and kicked their feet in the big double stroller, their arms outstretched towards him.

Remy gave them each a great big hug and then embraced Molly eagerly. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed her until he had seen her and he didn't even try to hide it. Eight years of marriage hadn't dimmed his love for her in the slightest. She wasn't the loveliest girl in the Complex, but her shine was the most beautiful he had ever seen. It sparkled with a deep, heartfelt love for him, one that would never die. She wasn't without her passions, she was the daughter of Sabretooth, a vicious feral killer. He had the terrible habit of killing his offspring, should he happen to discover them. He had found Molly out and when she was only just a few years old he had slashed her throat, robbing her of her voice. She had survived the vicious mauling and had since learned how to sign with her hands, a gift she had passed on to the X-men. It was a tool they now used frequently on missions.

Gambit couldn't help but let Molly's embrace lead him into giving her a deep, passionate kiss, not even stopping when the squad kids began to joke and cheer at him, applauding his enthusiasm. Playing along, he opened his arms, hands out, to show he wasn't doing anything more than simply kiss the one he loved most. Her shine bled into his own, fueling his desire for her – she was good food, the most comfortable bed he had ever laid in, safety and home, the manifestation of everything decent that had ever happened to him in his turbulent life. The kids could joke all they wanted, but they would never know just how deep his empathic heart had taken her in with just that kiss.

Molly knew it of course and she was laughing a bit at his joy to see her, her breath now soft against his cheek as she broke it off, the first to move away. She would have loved to kiss him all day, but not in front of a crowd and a noisy one at that.

Julien didn't share his teammates' enthusiasm for his father's very public display of affection. He had been silent but had turned his head away at the kiss, his shine swirling with revulsion. His time spent with his mutant hating mentor had left its scars. It wasn't that he disliked Molly personally, it was that he had been trained to think that her obvious mutation was a sign of some terrible sin and that belief was still hard for him to shake. At least he was being quiet despite his unease, though he had been upset about something even before this.

Remy was trying his best not to give too much attention to him. Julien was his son yes, but he was also on the squad and Remy was wary of showing any favoritism or undue attention towards him. Julien made that fairly easy, the lad still had not warmed up to his biological father, not one bit, and they barely spoke to each other in spite of Remy's many attempts in private to draw the lad closer to him.

Remy nuzzled the ear of his lovely wife and asked her quietly, "Julien okay?"

_**He had a rough night, **_she signed carefully, keeping her hands out of full view. _**Jason Frost was murdered last night.**_

Gambit sighed with regret and leaned against her, wordlessly asking for her comfort. As much as Remy was his biological father, Julien had lived in thrall to Jason Frost for long enough that he considered Frost to be his true father figure. Ever since the X-men had come and shut him down, Frost had been incarcerated in a SHIELD prison, awaiting execution for his appalling crimes against mutants. He hadn't just taken mutant kids for his slaves, he had on occasion killed them when they didn't behave. Being a very religious man, Frost found many excuses for that sort of misbehavior and he'd had a decent sized graveyard to prove it.

Julien himself might have gone alongside his former slavemaster to jail as well, but he had been reluctantly persuaded to give up important evidence in exchange for being released into the X-men's protective custody. The fact that the boy had been denied a formal education for most of his life was a big help, it helped plead the case that the boy simply hadn't known any better. Jason Frost had taught the boy to read but not much else. Schoolbooks were not to be found in the slave camp. Both Julien's cruel stepfather and now this man had found it easier to keep the lad ignorant and while normally such a thing was a tragedy, in this case it had made it that much easier to keep him out of custody. It hadn't been difficult for the X-Men to plead that the boy's ignorance had made him particularly susceptible to Frost's coercions and SHIELD had agreed. Julien's heart wasn't fully into this show of repentance however, and the other kids knew it. It was the main reason he hadn't been fully accepted back into the fold.

When Frost had first been detained, it seemed as though his would be an open and shut case. The evidence against him was seemingly overwhelming. Trouble was, most of it had been collected in a "pocket world" or parallel dimension of sorts, a place called Twilight. In spite of a very competent SHIELD forensic team going to Twilight and collecting two huge tractor trailers worth of evidence, including the bodies of several deceased, abused mutants, the location of the crime was still a problem. There had been no legal precedent for this and so there had been some snags in the courtroom proceedings. There was talk that Frost might even have to be let go, no matter how many bodies of dead mutant kids had been dug up. Now it looked like someone else had been offended enough by that idea to take matters into their own hands. For all Remy knew, it might even have been the idea of SHIELD head Nick Fury himself. It wouldn't be the first time someone had been conveniently murdered in the SHIELD lockup when the legalities of things got a bit muddied up.

Sadly, Julien was probably going to be the only guy feeling the loss. Remy and those around Julien had been doing their best to "de-program" the boy and get him back on a more normal keel, but it was rough going. Sometimes it seemed like they were making progress, other times like he was fighting them tooth and nail all the way.

"Why don't y'all go on up de ship now, eh?" Remy said now to the kids, trying not to laugh when they stumbled over themselves in their hurry to get up the ramp. It was no great secret that the main perk of being on Remy's squad was the classy means of transportation. All the kids were quite taken with the Dragon 2 and were overjoyed any time they got to take her out for a spin.

Well, they were all eager today but Julien, that was. He lagged behind, his head down and his feet dragging along. Remy had wanted the kids gone so he could further question Molly about this situation without the others overhearing.

"Why didn't you call me?" Remy patiently asked Molly once the boy was out of sight. Although Molly couldn't actually speak, their apartment phone was outfitted with a key pad that spoke whatever she typed. She was also quite adept at using the text feature on their cell phone. Remy had made sure she was never without the means of communicating with him.

_**I found out late last night and didn't want to wake you, **_she replied honestly. She could see he was disappointed but he was trying to keep it from her. She didn't need to read shines to know what he was thinking, she had inherited her father's feral senses if not his healing factor. Certain moods had smells and she knew his by heart now. _**They aren't sure who was responsible for the murder but the guards had to be in on it. There will be an investigation. Anyway, Asher brought Julien over so he wouldn't have to hear the other kids cheering. They had quite a party when they heard the news. **_

Asher was another of the resident Siskans here and a good and caring friend. He had discovered Christianity and had taken it to heart, spending most of his time in the service of others. He stubbornly considered Gambit to be his Master even though the Thief had insisted that all the Siskans were free here. Like Kimble, Asher had taken Julien under his wing, anything for his precious Master. He did his best to help Julien get by both academically and in a proper religious life and Remy was grateful for it.

"De'sole, I'm sorry you 'ad to watch after 'im," Gambit apologized. Molly was gracious and caring and had done her best to make Julien feel included into his new family, but the boy had been difficult. It was hard for him to overcome the aversion to mutants that Frost had taught him and Molly's clawed hands and extra hairiness made him uncomfortable.

Remy had asked for and gotten Julien included on the squad in the hopes that he and his son might grow closer. They hadn't made much progress so far. Julien seemed to be going through the motions of squad life for reasons Remy wasn't quite sure of. It was probably only because the training was considered therapeutic for him, it was supposedly teaching him social skills and therefore was also keeping him out of the lockup. He was more social yes, because of it, but only because he was forced to be. Outside of the squad, he was quiet and withdrawn, sullen. Remy was wondering if it was even possible for the lad to ever be happy at all. He was here because quite frankly, he had nowhere else to go. He'd once had a mother and two sisters but they were dead now, victims of the Flush, and so Remy was all he had left.

_**It was fine, **_Molly replied to Remy's apology, smiling now. _**He didn't sleep well, but neither did the twins. He helped me out a lot with them. They are rather taken with him, you know.**_

Remy couldn't help but smile. He liked the idea of Julien at least growing to love his half-siblings if not his own father. The kid needed some real family now that he had lost everyone else he had ever known. He knew that Julien's affection had come in no small part because the twins were X-gene negative and had no outward sign of any mutation whatsoever. Because of that, as far as Julien was concerned, they were free from sin even if their parents were not.

_**Asher came and prayed with him a while. It seemed to give him some comfort. **_

Remy nodded, happy to hear it. Asher regarded all the things that belonged to his Master as things to be looked after, including his wayward son, and made sure all was in proper order. Since Julien still clung so tightly to the religious beliefs that Frost had pounded into him, it was helpful to have someone familiar with the religious life to stand beside the boy and move him along in a much more proper direction. While Remy considered himself Christian, he hadn't embraced the life anywhere as much as Asher had. Asher had become Julien's unofficial Godfather, helping the boy spiritually as much as the others around him were trying to help him integrate back into normal society.

Gambit couldn't imagine anyone praying over Frost's lost soul but then he supposed that even the bad guys needed someone there for them, right? This was Asher's spirit of forgiveness rubbing off on him, warming his chilly heart. It wasn't like he was a saint himself. Orphaned at birth, Remy had been raised in the Thieves Guild of New Orleans and been in and out of trouble most of his life. He was in no position to judge anyone.

Molly glanced over Remy's shoulder and signed, _**Speaking of Siskans, where's Kimble and Aiden?**_

"Left Aiden to keep an eye on t'ings back east and Kim's still sleepin' it off in the Dragon. Boy never could 'old 'is liquor."

Molly sniffed at him with playful suspicion. She could tell that he had cleaned up himself, but no amount of Listerine was going to hide the fact that he had done his own fair share of drinking, too. Her eyes were knowing as she questioned, _**How about you?**_

He just smiled at her, confident in spite of having been busted. "I've 'ad a lot more practice den dose silly little boys. I'm fine, chere. Sorry we 'ave to go right back out again. I was hoping to be back today."

_**It's okay. We still have plenty of food left. **_

Of all of Remy's Siskans, Kimble was the most helpful to Molly and Remy when it came to managing the twins. Without even having to be asked, Kimble had not only seen to it that the laundry was all caught up before they had departed, he had also left Molly well stocked with pre-prepared frozen dishes he had made so she wouldn't have to cook. He had known that she would have her hands full with the twins all by herself when all of her helpers were gone and hadn't wanted her to be overwhelmed.

"Bien," Remy said, pleased that she was so well taken care of. "I'll try to 'ave us back as soon as I can, je promets."

Remy released his wife when he saw Scott Summers walking over towards him from the nearest guard shack. He tried not to groan out loud in dismay, certain that this was going to be something he wasn't going to like. Scott was the highest ranking active X-man here at the Complex and Remy deferred to the man even though he didn't always agree with his policies and plans. The truth was the X-men were evolving into a more militarized society whether they had liked it or not, and the system of rank and file was only growing more prevalent. It was the hazards of the times they were living in.

"Good. I'm glad I didn't miss you," Scott said, holding out his hand to be shaken. They were not yet at the point where they saluted each other but Remy had a feeling it wasn't going to be much longer the way things were going.

Gambit shook the man's hand but was still wary and on guard. It wasn't just Scott's unexpected appearance for what was probably just a simple exercise, it was his companion. The man who walked alongside him – if you could even truly call him a man anymore – was Warren Worthington. The former Gold Team member had previously been called Angel because he had once owned a pair of lovely white wings that had sprouted from his back, but those days were gone. His original wings had been lost on an old mission gone bad and he had never fully recovered from it, both mentally and physically. Warren had later learned that a poisonous substance called Honey could force a secondary mutation and in a last ditch effort to regain his former glory, had downed a vial of it.

Warren had gotten the secondary mutation he had desired, but the results were far more traumatic than what he had anticipated and he had been lucky to survive. The Honey had given him back his wings, but it had come with a terrible price. It had turned the rest of his body into something twisted, something more animal than man, forever removing the playboy good looks he'd had for most of his life.

The white feathered wings he'd had previously had been returned as perfectly as he had hoped, but now they were on the body of a lion man, long tail included. His face still retained many of his former human features but his hair was mostly gone, replaced by white feathers in a disheveled Mohawk of sorts. His once beautiful nose was elongated and sharp, almost the suggestion of a beak but not quite. His temperament had changed as well, he was no longer the arrogant playboy, but had now evolved into a more predatory mentality, not that far from Kyle's own. His eyes were watchful, hard, and you could never quite guess just what he was thinking, only that it most likely wasn't good. While he hadn't been physically violent to anyone in authority, Remy could see the desire for it held tightly in check – for now.

"We leavin' in five," Remy offered as an excuse and took a step away towards his ship, hoping this wasn't going to be what he thought it was.

"I would like you take Warren along with you," Scott insisted, trying not make it sound like an order even though it was.

"It's just a drill," Remy protested, keeping his voice light though his fists had clenched in irritation. Warren was one scary dude these days. Even Molly had stepped back and away from him, moving the twins behind her defensively.

Warren's eagle's eyes peered sharply at Remy as though he were prey, his lion's tail swishing with a curiosity that had nothing to do with play. His codename had been changed from Angel to Gryfon because well, what else would you call a man who looked just like that mystical beast? Or at least as much as a man could and still be somewhat human.

"You'd be doing me a favor," Scott insisted, the tense smile still fixed on his lips.

"He even cleared fo' de field?" Remy whined, reaching for anything that might get him out of this. Warren had had some scary episodes of verbal abuse during the training sessions he'd shared with Remy's squad. Warren was quick to harass the slower kids, he demeaned them almost to the point of bullying, and Remy had been forced to remove him more than once to go cool off.

"It's just a drill, like you said," Scott countered, rolling this right back on Remy. "That shouldn't matter."

Gambit sighed, seeing he wasn't going to get out of this. "Fine," he replied, but dared to look Warren right in the eyes. "But only so long as you acknowledge dat I'm de guy in charge, comprenez? You do what I say. No questions or I bounce yo' ass."

Warren's look was not friendly. It wasn't all that long ago that Warren had outranked Remy by a wide margin. Warren's recent changes had bumped him way down in status, just one small hop off the disabled list. He had once been the front face of the X-men, one of the poster children for mutant equality, but his high publicity days were now over for good and all he had left to occupy him was the chance to get back in the field. The X-men were working him through the training as a kind of physical therapy to help him to adapt to the secondary mutation gone bad, but they all knew the real score. If he failed here, there was no longer a place for him in the rank and file, something that was mortifying for any senior X-man. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

"You're the boss," Warren returned, not quite able to remove all of the disdain from his voice. The smile he gave didn't reach his eyes. He would never be able to hide his open contempt for the Thief that was a leftover from their past. He would always blame Gambit for the mission that had caused the loss of his original wings, something that was without a doubt carried over to his current predicament. If not for that loss he never would have taken the Honey and become the monster he was now. Remy could also see that Warren had never doubted that he would be allowed to go along today, not with Scott here to back up the request.

Remy grit his teeth in irritation at the arrogance, a sound Scott could hear. Scott was quick to reassure, "Don't worry, Warren has been looking over your squad while you were gone and he was great with them. Everything's fine." He even dared to pat Warren on the back, like that would just fix everything.

It didn't. In spite of Scott's bright smile, Remy could still see that inside, Scott was just as distrustful of his old friend as everyone else was. The shines never lie and Remy had grown to read them well. Still, Scott was trying to do all he could for Warren. Unfortunately, Remy had just been drafted in that regard. His look wasn't happy as he pinned down Scott with his eyes. "I t'ought Rogue was keepin' watch on my kids."

"She got called out on a mission right after you left for Maine. She only just got back an hour or so ago. It was bit rough and I told her to get some rest."

Remy sighed. He had lost this battle and bickering about it wasn't going to accomplish anything. He repeated to Warren, "I'm de boss."

"You're the boss," Warren echoed, but his voice was hard, unfriendly. He hadn't appreciated the double reminder.

"Fine," Remy relented, waving a dismissive hand up in the air. He squinted a bit as he felt the beginnings of a headache blossom over his eyes. "Go on up de ship. I just wanna say goodbye to my wife."

Warren bowed his head in mock submission and did as he had been told. Remy's look hardened at the sight of it, something that didn't change even as Scott gave his thanks and departed quickly as he could, like a guilty man leaving the scene of a crime. Remy was so sure this was going to be a mistake but there was nothing he could do about it now. It was done.

_**Let it go, **_Molly signed, coming back up close. _**It's just not worth it. **_

"Je sais, I know," he agreed, pulling her in tight for another meaningful embrace. He didn't argue any more, he just held her close. Typically when he went out on any sort of mission that was going to take some time, they always had a night out together, not just a quick meet and greet like this. It felt wrong to leave so soon. It was so unsatisfying.

_**Come home safe, **_she signed into his hand, a shorthand message he had become all too familiar with.

"Nuthin's goan keep me from you," he promised. "Dis ain't no big deal nohow, just Logan messin' around."

Molly just smiled indulgently at him. They had been married far too long for his uncertainty to get past her._**When you get back, you'll take me dancing, **_she said, making her patient demands with her usual loving style.

He just grinned and kissed her deeply before replying. "It's a date."

He then gave her hand a squeeze and let her go, following where Warren had gone.

(Break)

Back east, Aiden had watched the Dragon 2 depart for Arizona without regret. He knew Remy would be back in about an hour or so and wasn't worried. He wasn't fully convinced just yet that this situation was any big deal so he took his time, taking a long, leisurely smoke on Logan's back porch before venturing out into the snow to have a look around.

The Siskans were non-organic but that didn't mean they couldn't be affected by anything they might ingest or smoke. Nicotine from smoking cigarettes was somewhat soothing to them but the chemical THC (Tetrahydrocannabinol – yeah, I dare you to say that three times fast! ~ Sq) in marijuana was even more so. Because of this the Siskans were allowed access to this controlled substance, but only in very limited quantities and only under Dr. McCoy's strict supervision.

They were also capable of getting drunk from ingesting alcohol, but just how quickly varied from Siskan to Siskan the same as it did in humans. Aiden had a fairly high tolerance, but Kimble could get quite tipsy from just a glass or two of wine. It didn't make them aggressive however like it could with some people, it just made them giddy and silly and even more playful than they most often were already. There was nothing more amusing to Aiden than watching Kimble get silly drunk and stumble about, giggling madly at just about anything. Needless to say, the pair had a well stocked booze cupboard back home.

Aiden, being something of a moody creature at times, smoked quite a bit more than Kimble did and always had a pack handy. They would be menthols of course, or better yet, cloves if he could find them. He was good about it though, and never smoked in front of the kids in the squad. He couldn't get cancer from smoking, but they could. He wouldn't do anything to influence them by any of his bad habits.

Aiden finished his smoke, crushed out his butt in an empty metal soup can Logan had left on the railing for just that purpose, and stepped off into the snow. He had dressed well for the weather and wasn't unduly cold just yet though he had no desire to romp around out here for hours. He hoped this little game of Logan's wouldn't take long, or at least had some inside parts where it was warmer.

The sun was rising now, brightening over the tree tops and making the tracks that much easier to see. Aiden had an excellent memory as all the Siskans did – having a star drive for a brain was definite plus – and the quick lessons Logan had passed on during their recent hunting trips came right in handy. He had no trouble picking up Logan's tracks from just hours ago and followed them out into the trees. He made his way carefully, making sure not to disturb the man's marks in case he had to backtrack. Remy had drilled the squad hard in many areas, wanting them to have a well rounded education, and to a small degree crime scene investigative techniques had been passed along. Ever mindful of those lessons he had learned, Aiden utilized the small digital camera from his work pack to snap some pictures as he moved along. He also stuck the occasional small florescent green circle sticker on a tree here and there to mark his progress in case Remy and the squad had to follow him later.

The tracks went on for a ways and over time Aiden began to feel more and more of the chill. Yeah, he was really hoping this wasn't going to be an all day in the snow affair. Granted it was better than some of the typical ole boring indoor exercises they used to run practices with back home, but it was colder out here than he liked.

The trees began to thin out a bit and the tracks lead out into a small clearing not far from the cabin. Aiden dutifully followed them out as directed, numbly wondering how it was that the man could have gone this far barefooted without freezing half to death or getting a serious case of frostbite. It had to be warmer out here now with the sun up than when the tracks were made and still it was bitterly cold.

Aiden halted suddenly when he noticed something he hadn't before. It was true that there were stories in the snow just as Logan had instructed him and just now, he realized that he hadn't been listening all that well. Shame on him. These latest tracks were a bit fresher than the ones he had started with and it was only now that his sharp eyes finally discerned that what he had first thought were tracks made by a single man, were in reality tracks made by two. The second impression, so carefully inlaid over the older one, was smaller, slimmer. He had just been tricked.

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" Aiden complained to himself, dropping his pack and whining that he had been so easily mislead. All that time in the snow and he had probably missed valuable clues that had been left alongside the track in his stupidity. Logan's game wasn't as simple as it had first appeared.

The complaint had no sooner left his lips when he was suddenly slammed from behind, the blow hard enough to temporarily daze him. He stumbled forward to his knees before going down face first into the snow without an ounce of dignity, its icy chill burning his cheeks. Too bad he didn't pass out, he next howled in agony as pain bloomed large and ugly in his back right through to his chest. It revived him instantly and he reflexively threw off his attacker with a telekinetic shove, releasing a small burst of spikes along with it just for good measure.

Unlike Kimble who was talented enough to fly the Dragon 2, Aiden's telekinetic ability was extremely limited. He could generate weak shields to protect his body and create clear, crystalline spikes from thin air. The spikes were actually shards of a telekinetic shield, broken down and mentally thrown about. Kimble could make the spikes as well, but where Kimble's spikes were mighty icicles of death, Aiden's were more like darts or pencil sized. Just big enough to annoy or injure, but not nearly as deadly.

Aiden rose to his knees, hazy now from shock and stared numbly at his chest. He could see six rather large punctures through his parka, holes that were leaking gel blood at a rather alarming rate. His blood wasn't red like a human, it was a clear runny pink and sparkly, glistening brightly as it left the heat of his body and then simply shimmered away as if it hadn't been real. While it might have been fascinating to anyone else, this potentially mortal injury wasn't amusing Aiden now in the least. Had Logan actually dared to jump him by surprise and then run him through? That was insane! This was supposed to be a game, nothing more.

He turned to look behind him and squinted in confusion, not sure just who he was looking at. It certainly wasn't Wolverine, not even close. A few steps away stood a young man he did not recognize, very slim in build and dressed only in black denim jeans as though the cold didn't affect him in the least. His skin was a light golden brown, his slanted, Asian eyes betraying the fact that he was not likely to be American. One side of his upper body was brightly marked with black tribal tattoos that swirled about him as if excited to be there. His head was shaved but for a long strip of black hair down the middle, a wild and wispy Mohawk that made him look that much more menacing. And he did look menacing indeed, in no small part due to his fierce anger. He was issuing his own complaints as he yanked several of Aiden's larger sized spikes from his arms and chest.

At first Aiden was elated, a bit of tit for tat that made up some for his own stupidity in not checking his surroundings anywhere near well enough. It didn't last. When he saw the young man's injuries closing up neatly and vanishing as soon as the spikes were removed, it all of a sudden wasn't so funny anymore. Aiden couldn't generate spikes endlessly, it took energy, energy that was draining from him quickly as he continued to bleed out from his own wounding. He could charge from the sun yes, and even heal himself from injury, but it took time. Time he did not have.

Aiden snarled in frustration and staggered to his feet even though he already knew that it was probably futile to run. He had been disabled quite effectively, all of his Gladiator training going right to waste. So terribly stupid, this carelessness on his part. He should have done better, he should have been more careful. Not that he could do anything about it now, perhaps this had been the final mistake he would ever make. He was badly injured, basically useless, and Remy probably wouldn't make it back here in time. Of course even if the Thief did arrive now, he and his squad were heading right into a real trap and there wasn't anything Aiden could do to stop it. Remy had been right after all, this hadn't been a game at all.

The man laughed as Aiden awkwardly rose and then garbled something at Aiden in a language the Siskan didn't understand. There was a hint of pleasure in it, this man was a hunter and Aiden the prey. This was nothing but pure amusement for the guy. What great fun.

Yeah, well, Aiden was all done playing. He willed his legs to carry him, as if simply wishing for escape would be good enough, and actually managed to get a few feeble strides away towards the trees before he was slammed hard again and shoved roughly back to the ground.

"Fuck!" Aiden complained in annoyance for his own benefit if nothing else. How embarrassing was this? An X-man, him? Please! At least he had managed to shield his own body enough that he wasn't run through again.

Aiden was sprawled on his back now, his body taking huge empty gasps of air that did him no good. He had no internal organs as humans did, but he still needed to breathe to survive. He was badly injured, perhaps even fatally so. He could see why. That pesky and persistent young man was on top of him again, pinning him down, his face lit up with a kind of savage glee, his eyes wild. He was futilely slashing at Aiden, three long bone claws in each hand striking Aiden's clumsy shield to no effect. These claws were not exactly like Logan's, two came out of the top of his hand like Logan's did, but the third came from below and through the man's wrist, something that looked a bit awkward though it didn't seem to trouble the man. The claws were not metal either, they were simply bone and tinged a bit red from the young man's flesh as they had come out.

What was troubling the fellow, however, was the fact that he couldn't injure the poor wounded Siskan any more than he already was. Aiden's parka and the clothing underneath were shredding quite nicely, but that was it. Aiden's shield was holding for now. The guy stopped trying to hack away at his prey and sniffed at him, his own narrow eyes squinting. "What the fuck are you?!" he snarled in exasperation, trying another language the Siskan was more likely to understand.

Aiden gasped, comprehending the last bit at least. Up close, the man's shine blazed brilliantly, something Logan's did as well, as did all the other regenerators that Aiden had crossed paths with. That combined with all of the sniffing had Aiden guessing that the fellow was yet another feral, perplexed not just by his shields but by the fact that while Aiden was clearly bleeding, he had no heartbeat and no scent beyond that last cigarette he had just smoked. The lack of scent frustrated ferals to no end and confused them because it denied them the most common tool they used to assess people. They didn't like it.

Aiden, cocky to the last, simply smiled and slurred suggestively in a breathless wheeze, "What am I? Heh.. Aiden could 'ave ... been one of you... wildeszt dreamsz, eh? Take you... to a plaze you never knew exiszted. But you ruin.. ze introduction. No playtime... fo' you..."

The man just laughed at Aiden's joke, sitting back on his haunches, his knees tight to Aiden's still heaving sides. He could afford to be jovial, he could clearly see that Aiden was weak and growing weaker. He was no threat and therefore no longer any sport. "You're an amusing creature," he observed, his English flawless and carrying no accent. "Too bad you will die now. The Master would have very much enjoyed playing with you. "

He then reached down and began to paw through Aiden's torn clothes. Aiden did his best to try to stop him but he was too weak to do more than bat at the man's hands feebly with his own. Amazingly, the man just smiled a bit wistfully and brushed those hands gently aside, shushing him soothingly as he would a child. "Shh, shh, easy now... Relax."

Aiden coughed and sobbed a bit at it with something akin to horror. He knew the offer of comfort was insincere, this guy was just trying to quiet an uncooperative victim, not wanting any interference as his hands strayed here and there as they pleased. This man owned him now and he knew it. He was a taker and now he was taking. Aiden was completely helpless, all his.

But he wasn't gone, not just yet. Even injured, Aiden could feel the warmth of the man's hands as they brushed his now exposed skin. The guy paused wonderingly to admire the large Mark on Aiden's chest, running his slender fingers down the long length of the blade. Aiden knew that to an outsider, the Mark would look like a large, bright, freshly applied tattoo. These colors would never fade over time like they would have on a human. It was striking enough to catch the eye even of this rather busy predator.

Of course the curiosity didn't last long and the man went back to his investigations. These were not casual touches, these were almost exploratory, and yes, at one point the man did dip his fingers into the gel blood pouring out of the holes he had made in the poor helpless Siskan and raised them to his nose, still searching for some kind of scent. It wasn't going to come and he gave it up, using his time for better use. He rifled through Aiden's shredded parka pockets, smiling when he discovered his cell phone. He opened it and effortlessly began to go through the different menus, the phone making happy cheerful noises even as it was violated for its secrets.

Aiden lay as he was, unable to do a single thing about it. He tried to kick his legs and thrash his arms some more in an effort to dismount his attacker but his limbs were so heavy now that he could hardly move. He had lost too much blood. The personal shield he had created to protect himself had already dissolved from his weakness but the young man above him was too busy with the cell phone now to care. Aiden's breaths, still so long and shallow, were slowing now, the energy it required to make them simply growing too great with each attempt.

Aiden gave up on useless efforts to escape and rolled his head so he looked up to the grey cloud covered sky, his body so terribly cold and empty now. With the lack of oxygen, everything was dim and growing dimmer and he knew his attacker had spoken the truth — yes, he was going to die. He wasn't afraid to embrace the light and move on to whatever came next, he never had been. But he did worry for Kimble, how his precious Lover would take the loss. Kimble had lost so much already and Aiden had promised to be with him always. Looked like he'd made one promise too many, one that he wasn't going to be able to keep after all.

A single tear dripped from one eye, all that his body had left to offer besides one last sobbing, gasping breath that held only Kimble's name. If his attacker had a response to that, Aiden never heard it. The blackness finally took him and he knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

(Three)

Logan startled awake when there was a heavy thud beside him. His eyes opened a crack, but full consciousness was clearly not going to come anytime soon. He was on his side and whatever he was lying on was quite cold against his skin. He didn't think it was the snow or even the ground, it was too dark around him for him to be outside. The uneven, ribbed feeling to the floor and the smell of diesel so close suggested to him that he was in the plastic lined bed of some heavy duty truck, but then again, he was also too fucked up to really trust anything his senses were telling him. His head was pounding and only his high tolerance for pain was keeping him from making some noise about it. There was some sunlight, though it was muted, and he guessed that there was a truck cap above him offering some shelter against the wind and snow.

The cold floor against his naked skin actually felt pleasant and the heavy fog behind his eyes informed him in its own sluggish way that he was far from fine. His body was burning with a high fever though he had no memory of being sick or even of how he might have gotten here. For one thing, he didn't own a truck, certainly not one that he would have crawled off to sleep in, in any case.

Feathery lint drifted across his nose and he involuntarily breathed it in, feeling the beginnings of a sneeze building there from it. The sneeze finally came, making his eyes widen all the more and what he saw next made him keep them open though it took some effort. The thud he had heard had come from a body being placed next to him, one that had been dumped there without care like so much meat.

From his fog, Logan still recognized who it was – this was Aiden – though the Siskan didn't appear to be in any better shape than Logan was now. Aiden's skin looked faded and pale. Even his wispy blonde hair seemed colorless. His eyes were slitted, not fully closed, and even though Logan wasn't at his sharpest he could see that they never blinked. Aiden had never had a heartbeat but now he didn't even seem to be breathing. His parka and shirt had been clawed at and shredded – thus the lint – and his exposed chest showed six circular wounds marring his lovely Yellow Mark, as though someone had taken their fingers and simply pushed them right into him. It reminded Logan vaguely of the finger holes of a bowling ball. There was no blood leaking from those strange finger holes, but this didn't surprise Logan, even he knew that Siskans' blood shimmered away.

So incapacitated, Aiden's normal look of playful arrogance was gone, leaving behind a sort of childish innocence that made him appear years younger, as though he was nothing more than a sleepy child. It was enough that Logan reached out as best he could - his arm was so heavy it took forever to get there - and touched Aiden's cheek in a half caress. The Siskan did not react to the contact and Logan squinted as he felt his fingers sink a little into the Siskan's skin, something not even close to natural. He had seen this sort of strange squishiness before, once when Kimble had run so low on power that he was hardly conscious. Of course even then Kimble hadn't looked so faded, so... _**empty**_... of everything, including life. Aiden's skin was cold to the touch and Logan had an idea that it had nothing to do with the snow.

Again Logan touched Aiden's lips, this time swirling his fingers a bit. Logan blinked in a kind of drunken bewilderment when he actually disturbed the features of the mouth itself, as though Aiden was nothing more than a human shaped figure made of putty. It was creepy and fascinating all at once – and something he had never seen happen before, not even with Kimble.

_He can't be dead, _Logan's inner voice chimed in, the only thing about Logan that wasn't totally fogged. A dim memory came to him then of holding a clear plastic evidence bag with three blackened circular objects in it. A year or so ago Aiden's clutchmate Babette, her heart shattered, had committed suicide by bleeding herself out to nothing. When Logan had found her, all that had been left were those three star drives, as dead then as she now was. If Aiden was all the way gone like she had been, all that should have remained of him were his drives. Wolverine closed his eyes to rest, having taken some small comfort in that.

He didn't get much. Long ago he had accepted the fact that he had done bad things and that he was a bad man, rotten down to the core. He did not deserve the few blessings that he had been given. Even now when he had been taken he didn't cast about blame elsewhere, he knew that this was his comeuppance and he was getting what he so richly deserved. What he didn't like was the fact that it seemed like Remy and his crew was going along for the ride. He had to do something, he had to stop this.

Logan tried to move but couldn't. He was too tired, his body too heavy. He took a deep shuddering breath and gave it up. He would rest, yes, and then this rat bastard, whomever he was, was going to eat plenty. He would eat every bite of this dish of holy hell Logan was preparing for him. It was sure to be bloody and sweet.

Logan startled awake moments later, not even fully aware that he had fallen back asleep. He had been awakened by voices, two men were just outside. They were speaking in German, something puzzling since it wasn't a common tongue out here in the snowy wilds of Maine. Having fought in World War II, Logan didn't have many positive associations with German. His good friend Nightcrawler aside, little had come his way over the years to change that very narrow view.

One of the pair was giving orders. _**"Go back to the cabin. The Master wants the ship that's parked there. It's cloaked, but you will still be able to find it easily enough if you use that undersized lump that passes for your brain. If the ship is gone just wait, they will return with the rest of the Team. They think this place is safe and they will leave the craft unattended in their zeal to play our little game. Don't let them see you but let them pass and then bring the ship to the Diamond. Don't fuck this up or you will pay dearly!"**_

Logan grumbled inwardly. This had just gone from bad to worse. It would be a bad thing indeed if anyone got their hands on the Dragon 2 and figured out how it worked. He could only hope that Seth had put in enough failsafe redundancies to make sure the craft was unusable to anyone other than Remy's team.

"_**You're lucky you're the Master's dog," **_came the irritated reply from the second voice._** "I am too useful for you to speak to me with such disrespect!"**_

"_**You'll get my respect when you actually earn it. Something I doubt will ever happen. Now be a good pup and do as you're told."**_

The second man cursed and then the truck rocked a bit, shifting, followed by a pair of slamming doors. They had been arguing in the cab and now both had exited. Aiden's head lolled in a boneless, scary way from the movement and that made Logan draw his hand back in unease. The jostling of Aiden's head caused a single tear to drip from one of the Siskan's eyes, once more catching Logan's attention. The tear was simulated as were all liquid secretions from these creatures, but even it wasn't quite right. It was sparkly with golden glitter that caught the half light coming in from the truck cap windows and shimmered like nothing else Logan had seen. Only then did he realize that the tear wasn't the only thing shimmery, he could see answering golden sparkles from inside the Siskan's body. Not on top of his skin like sweat – these were glimmering from inside. They were swimming there, just under the skin, like goldfish you can only just see in a pond.

"The fuck...?" Wolverine rasped in confusion, his throat raw.

"_**You're awake," **_came a voice to Logan's left. The truck shifted again, Logan was now no longer the only living, breathing thing in the truck bed. _**"How nice."**_

Logan turned towards the noise, startled more by the fact that this voice, which had spoken fluent German a mere moments before, had just now uttered flawless Japanese than by the noise itself. The Japanese was the language Aiden had failed to understand earlier in the woods, but Wolverine knew it much too well not to.

The movement Logan had made in turning his head was a mistake, the world suddenly blurred in a sickening carousel sort of way and he was gripped with a fierce, gripping nausea. He had only just begun to gag when he was struck in the belly by a heavily booted foot, a blow that forced him to relieve his stomach of what little had been in it. Vomit sprayed from his mouth, splattering all around, even on poor Aiden's face though the Siskan didn't even react to it at all.

"_**My, my," **_that cruel voice purred at him again. _**"Feeling a bit ill, are we? I should hope so. It's bubonic plague, one of my personal favorites. At this point you are nearing the septicemic stage. You are familiar with this, yes? More so than you would like to be right about now, I suspect."**_

Logan's vision cleared some though tears dripped from the corners of his eyes. It was enough that he could see the blur of the man above him, someone he could not recognize, though he did understand that this was the same voice that had called to him from the woods. That voice had lured him into the trees though he could no longer recall what had happened after. Something unpleasant no doubt or he wouldn't be here, a prisoner now. He was unfamiliar with the medical terms the man had used, they were too similar to words Hank would use right about the time Logan would tune him out from boredom. All he knew was that right now he was in serious medical trouble. His heart was pounding in his chest, keeping time with the throbbing in his head, both equally unpleasant. He had to get out of here and fast.

The man didn't seem to care that Logan had not responded to his question. Instead he asked another, _**"Do you recognize this weapon?"**_

Logan blinked again and saw the vague outline of a peculiar yet familiar looking handgun. It was one of Tony Stark's finest - a gun made specifically for chemically or biologically loaded bullets. A nasty weapon, one that Logan had never approved of. As before, he didn't answer the man's question. He didn't have to, the answer was already coming.

"_**It's the ST-500," **_came the flawless Japanese again. He turned the weapon around, all the better for Logan to get a really good look at the source of all of his pain. _**"I usually just use the Scarlet Fever pellet or one of the more lively strains of the flu, but you... You, my friend, are a special case."**_

"What.. what do.. ya want ... from me?" Logan gasped, hardly able to speak. His gut was one huge agony now.

The man shaped blur just laughed,_** "No. Not me. I'm just the one who fetches what needs to be fetched." **_He pulled back the slide on the gun, loading it. _**"There's someone who'd like very much to meet you, and what he wants, he always gets."**_

Before Logan could respond to that the gun was pointed towards him and he was pushed back, moved by unseen fists that hit him and filled him with toxic heat that burned through him worse than the kick to the stomach had done. He was on fire and then he knew no more.

(Break)

Remy left his precious wife and babies behind and walked up into the Dragon 2 trying to swallow down his annoyance. Continuing to be irritated over having to babysit Gryfon wasn't going to help anything. He would need to remain calm, all the better to keep an eye on the dangerous passenger. Passenger, yes, because as far as Remy was concerned, the man hadn't earned the right to be called teammate. Not anymore.

Gambit was almost at the top of the ramp when he began to hear the kids inside talking amongst themselves. Kimble had fallen back asleep in his pilot's chair just as Remy had suspected he might and now big, green Hercules and some of the others were having a bit of fun at his expense. Kimble was a sound sleeper, especially after a few rounds of drinks, and was probably oblivious to the fact that anything was even going on. It was a good thing, too, as the talk wasn't so nice.

"Looks like someone had a good time," Trigger was teasing, his voice a bit hard. "So how many beers does it take to make a Siskan pass out?"

"Too many," came Hercules' gruff reply. It wasn't friendly. "He smells like a brewery."

"Are you sure it's okay for him to fly?" Dewy asked next, his voice nervous. He was a constant fretter, something that had earned him more than one round of teasing of his own. Remy could just picture the guy wringing his hands in anxious worry as he continued, "I can think of better ways to die than crashing."

"I think it's cute," Grace said next, her voice full of fun as always. "He looks so adorable all trashed like that."

"There's nothing adorable about being so fucked up you can't perform," Hercules sneered in reply. "He's probably going to slow us down. We should just leave him behind."

"You men," Grace just chided in return. "Always so worried about your 'performance'." She suggestively placed a special emphasis on the last word and Remy could just picture her rolling her eyes. Good ole steady Grace, never one to let anyone bully her. "I am sure Kimble can hold his own, drunk or not, or he wouldn't be here. Besides, who else would fly us out? Gambit can't do it on his own."

"Everyone settle down," Remy barked, finally entering the ship and shooing them with his hands to scatter the small crowd that was hovering around Kimble's pilot chair. His eyes were especially hard as they settled on Hercules while the boy took his seat. Remy was no idiot. He knew that deep down Hercules held some homophobic contempt for the pair of Siskans. The only reason he was speaking so boldly now was because Aiden, the more intimidating of the pair, was absent. It was exasperating, this boy. Hercules was always standing on that precarious fork in the road, one step away from becoming the leader Remy wanted him to become, or the bully he was so close to arriving at instead.

Respectful of their team leader, the kids took their seats obediently, some of them looking chagrined, but not all. Hercules had held Remy's gaze even to the last.

Once they were seated, Remy gave Kimble a gentle nudge. The pilot startled awake with a drunken grunt, not even the least bit aware that he had been the object of anyone's ridicule. "S' time fer leavin's?" he asked blearily, his voice still slurred. His eyes were only half open, still heavy with sleep.

Remy patted his shoulder. "Oui. Why don't you go in de lav, freshen up a bit? Just fo' one minute."

Kimble nodded and rose stiffly, rubbing his eyes and stumbling a bit as he shuffled off to the lavatory. Remy watched him go, feeling a bit regretful. It wasn't Kimble's fault, this hadn't been planned and the guys had just been too bored at the cabin. Kimble wasn't one to get regularly trashed like this, it was simply that the group of them had been having a good time. If anyone was to blame, it was himself for packing so much whiskey along. Even out there they had technically still been on call and could have been ordered to action at any time if a serious incident had occurred. He would have to remember this for the future.

Julien had taken the last seat on the end, the one closest to the lavatory and Remy watched with a half smile as Kimble gently brushed his hand over Julien's shoulder as he passed him by. Julien hadn't moved away and there was a momentary streaking of blue in his shine, a sign that the gesture had been well received.

Of course Kimble would be able to sense that the boy was upset, Julien was family and he looked out for the boy more than anyone, including Asher. Even in a daze Kimble had seen how bad Julien's shine was and had reached out automatically without being too obvious about it. Kimble was painfully aware that he was often perceived as odd or strange because he was so open emotionally and because of it, had lately been holding back when it came to outward signs of affection, something that made Remy sad.

It did also make Remy wonder why it was that Julien hadn't tried to stand up for Kimble while the others had been teasing him, Kimble wouldn't have hesitated to stand up for Julien if their situations had been reversed. Then again, with Julien so trashed emotionally himself at the moment, he might not have wanted the confrontation. It was true that Julien and Hercules had butted heads more than once, usually with Hercules coming out on top. The big green bruiser was no match for Gambit's slim and underfed son.

Remy took his own seat and absently fiddled with the start up controls as he waited for Kimble to return, keeping one watchful eye on the door to the lavatory. For just a moment he actually did consider leaving Kimble here as Hercules had been suggesting and just have Fallen fly them back instead, but he was concerned that Kimble would lose too much face over it. He had flown them out here well enough and he had been more inebriated then than he was now. Gambit was relieved when a moment later, Kimble walked out looking much more alert than when he had gone in. He had splashed some water on his face and had brushed his teeth, minty fresh. Now that he was back on track, Kimble was his usual efficient self and the flight back to Maine was swift and quiet. Kimble never wavered as he guided them along, his skill at this never faltering.

The kids were animated in their seats as they traveled, happy to be there. They, like Remy, were filled with anticipation of the game to come and what it might hold. They had missed their squad leader during his absence and were eager for more than just the usual practice drills. They were happy for the distraction.

Remy knew that the kids loved flying in the Dragon 2. It was the best perk of being on his squad and they were always excited when they were told they might be taking a trip somewhere. Their exclusivity was soon coming to an end, though. A third ship, the Dragon 3, was already partially built and would soon be finished. Seth was behind many of the new designs and was currently going over the files of those mutants who might be eligible to fly her. All they really needed was to pair up a certain kind of energy producer and a powerful telekine just as Remy and Kimble were, and the X-men had a few to choose from coming up through the ranks. Even now the top performers of those two power groups were scrambling over one another to be picked for this prestigious service. It was no big secret that Xavier wanted a small fleet of these handy little ships if he could manage it. But for now, Remy was still the only one in charge of a smaller Dragon craft and his kids felt privileged to be here.

They were almost at their destination when Remy heard the small clique of girls giggle about something behind him. He turned his head slightly to glance behind him, trying not to be too obvious about it. His attempt at subtlety failed, his eyes immediately met those of Grace, her face full of light and fun. Grace winked at him playfully, but he noted that at the same time her hand had moved towards the scarf at her throat. Her shine flickered and just like that Remy knew she had a secret. It wasn't a bad one, but the happiness it gave her was tinged with sadness.

_**Oh, yeah, it's a hickey all right she's hiding there, **_Shi'ow-ri laughingly whispered to him, the internal voice of his empathy. He had named her, this power, it helped to keep him sane when secret knowledge came to him whether he wanted it to or not. _**It has to be. **_

_Good for 'er, _he answered back. _Nice to know someone's happy round 'ere. _

_**Just beware that sadness.**_

Remy nodded but didn't reply to that. Something had happened recently that had both excited Grace and yet had left behind some unhappiness. He wouldn't ask her about it. The thing was that while Remy tried his best to make himself emotionally available to his squad he wasn't going to be pushy about it - at least, not unless it actually began to affect the team as a group. He had been where they are now, these awkward teenagers still trying to figure out the mysteries of life, and wanted to give them the chance to work things out for themselves. It would make them the stronger for it. Besides, with the emotional polarity that most teenage girls had, it could be about anything.

Grace was a joy to have around, her constant radiation of playful confidence seemed to meld the group together in a positive way. It helped to compensate for the more aggressive, moodier boys on the team. No matter how many cuts Gambit might have to make to the team in the future, her spot on his crew was assured. He hadn't told her that of course, he would show no outward signs of favoritism. Her codename, Jester, was well earned and he wasn't going to do without her.

Grace chuckled softly at him as if reading his thoughts and returned her attention back to her girlfriends. The giggling continued and Remy gave up on it, laughing softly to himself as he turned back to the front, rolling his eyes at it even though he was still smiling.

Unlike the more aggressive boys, the girls were all getting along famously, something that was a relief. It was times like these, looking on the playful girls and the position hungry boys, that Remy would reminisce fondly on his time as a young Thief in the Guild run by his adopted father, Jean Luc. Jean Luc had been in charge of bringing the young ones up to speed and it wasn't until Remy was in charge of his own gaggle of unruly teenagers that he could look back on his youth and wonder just how it was exactly that Jean Luc had reined them in all so well. Getting out of hand hadn't happened often and most of the time Jean Luc had held their respect so tightly that a mere threat of punishment was usually sufficient to bring forth an unquestioning obedience. Remy had no such control, not just yet. He only wished now that Jean Luc was still alive so he could ask the old man just how he had done it.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Gambit realized now, as an adult, that one of the biggest reasons that Jean Luc had been so respected was because he had proven himself time and time again in the field. No one doubted his skills or that he knew what he was speaking about when he was teaching. Remy could only hope to get the same chance to do that, perhaps even today though it was just a drill.

Little pretty, purple skinned Izzie laughed a little louder than usual and out of the corner of his eye, Remy caught the flickering of a shine in response to it, one that gave him chills.

Warren Worthington, formerly an Angel and now a Gryfon, was standing aloof and off to one side of the room. The seats were full with the kids so he had taken one of the hand straps that hung from the ceiling and held himself up, his eagle eyes wary and roaming over the kids watchfully, though now they had fixed rather pointedly on Izzie in a most predatory way. The kids had grown used to having him around these days, Remy could see, but yet none of them chatted with him and those closest to where he stood had turned away towards each other as if in a subconscious gesture of protection against him. Gryphon's shine was calm and curious, but even in this relaxed state still wasn't free of those darker colors that set Remy on edge. He still didn't know if the guy could be trusted if things went badly quickly today. Would he help them or hinder them? And why was he looking at Izzie like that? Like she was something good to eat.

Remy wasn't the only one who had noticed it, the Thief quickly saw. Kyle, slumped on the floor as he was, was now staring right back at the guy, his lips pulled back in a soundless hiss of warning, showing plenty of teeth. His long claws hooked out and clacked on the metal floor, finally making enough noise to pull Gryfon's eyes away from the girl to a more immediate problem.

Gryfon stared back at Kyle, nonplused at the challenge, and he laughed, smiling at the feral man in a most unpleasant way. "Something on your mind, little boy?"

"Mrr!" Kyle growled deep and low, rising up on his haunches as if ready to spring, his leg and arm muscles already bunching. He had difficulty forming full sentences, his strange face and long teeth making long speeches impossible, but his body spoke well enough for him. He'd had enough of Gryfon's wandering eyes.

So had Remy but what he wanted less was a brawl right here in front of everyone. It would have been an impressive fight, no doubt, but it would probably be a nightmare to stop it once it got started. These two were both dangerous ferals and highly trained in hand to hand combat though Kyle would probably have the upper hand in a fight – beyond having a healing factor to assist, he had been in his current form longer than Gryfon had. You see, both of these guys shared a horror in common though they weren't civil enough with one another to discuss it over tea - neither one had started out as they looked now. Kyle had been poisoned by the Weapon X program with a blood serum from both Logan and Sabretooth, a concoction that made him the half man, half lion creature he was today. Warren's conversion had been voluntary but no less devastating. The Honey had done its evil work and he too was a creature barely in control of himself.

There was no way Remy could allow these two to actually come at each other physically, the collateral damage would be too great. Remy had no sooner opened his mouth to speak when Kimble broke the tension by announcing, "We's here, Capt'n. You wants me in the same spot as last time?"

Kimble being as empathic as Remy, had been aware of the escalating tensions behind him and had used the news to break it up without getting up from his seat.

Remy would gladly take it. "Oui, Kim. Take us down just as we was."

"Aye."

The ship lowered noticeably and it was movement enough that the two antagonists had to concern themselves with not sliding about the floor more than exchanging the evil eye with one another. The moment passed and Remy couldn't help but give an internal sigh of relief.

The ship landed safely in Logan's snow covered backyard and the kids began to unbuckle their belts and depart. Remy stood by patiently as they did so, making sure they all had their packs and snow gear on before they went outside. He had more than just good parenting in mind – when the kids all went down the ramp and outside, Remy stayed behind in the ship on purpose, biding his time so he could deliberately block Gryfon's path before the man could exit. They were alone now and Gambit's look was hard and to the point as he quietly hissed under his breath, "Eyes front, Gryfon, not on de girls or yo' sorry ass ain't goan have clue one what just busted it right into next week, comprenez?"

Remy'd had enough of Gryfon's wandering eyes and wanted him to know it. It wasn't just that Warren was one scary dude these days, the guy was also old enough to be the father of any one of the girls on the squad. It was beyond creepy and Remy was determined to nip it right in the bud.

Warren met his gaze, unfazed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Just the man's lack of surprise was enough of an admission of guilt that Remy backed him right up, not having any of it. His fists closed, glowing faintly red with stored kinetic energy as he boldly threatened, "Dis a real bad time fo' you to be parkin' yo honesty at the door, mon ami. Best you be rethinkin' what you say next."

Outside, Kimble lingered just at the end of the ramp. He looked up to see what was delaying the last two members of this party. Kimble might appear stupid because of his child like manner and lazy accent but he was as quick as they came when it came to matters involving his best friend and Captain. He didn't get the whole gist of what was going on, he was too far away to hear the words, but he moved defensively just the same, his stance changing as he took three steps back up the ramp, wordlessly letting Remy know that the Siskan had his back.

Gryfon saw Kimble hovering with intent and his posture changed, becoming something a bit more submissive. He raised his clawed hands in mock surrender and smiled his cruel liar's smile. "I promise to behave... _**Captain.**_" This last was said with all the disdain the man felt for Remy's new title and it was plenty.

Remy just snorted in disgust at the idea that this jerk would think he'd fall for so insincere a line and turned his back on the man, not believing a word of it. The last thing he felt like doing was listening to Warren's snarky comments all day. That was okay, he had a solution for that. "D'accorde, den. Stay 'ere and mind de ship. Make sure it stay secure." With that he headed for the door, fully intending to leave the arrogant asshole behind.

"What? Wait!" Warren called after him, his voice all surprise now. He was genuinely stunned at Remy's command. He had fully expected to be taken along, especially since Remy had been ordered to take him in the first place. "You'll need me and you know it. I'm too good to leave behind!"

"Oh no, you ain't," Remy corrected cooly, letting slip an empathic vibration of his absolute sincerity, something the other man could feel. Gambit knew that he had to put the man in his place, one way or the other, or this was never going to work.

Gryfon sighed and raised his hands in surrender again, this time meaning it. "I promise to behave. Please, I need this."

Remy looked at him, chewing on it a full minute, reading the man's shine. That last remark was truthful at least and Remy couldn't help but wonder if Scott had given the guy some kind of ultimatum. Was this mission a test of the guy's field worthiness? Gambit hoped so. It would make Warren take it more seriously. Remy raised a finger and promised, "One slip an' Kimble's gets yo' ass back 'ere snap snap, don't even doubt it, mon ami."

Gryfon knew the threat was genuine. Kimble, being the major telekine of the group and fiercely loyal to the Thief, would have no problem doing just that. His answer was finally sincere as he said, "I won't."

Remy let the guy sweat a couple of seconds before saying, "Bien," and walked out down the ramp.

Kimble was there waiting for him, faithful and true, and the Thief said to him, _**"Watch de man close,"**_ in Siskan as he passed the pilot by. He knew Gryfon would hear it even though he wouldn't fully understand what the command had been. He wanted the man to sweat.

"_**Aye, Capt'n," **_came Kimble's quick reply.

It worked. Gryfon's posture and shine were in proper order as he took his place amongst the kids. Just to add to his point, Gambit locked and armed the ship once the ramp was closed, using a regular looking key chain alarm. It chirped back at him just like any ordinary car and Gryfon scowled slightly at the sound of it. If Seth was anything as good as rumored Warren knew the alarm was real - probably even triple safe - and that he would have been forced to remain behind for nothing.

The kids meanwhile had clumped together in a rough muster, getting all of their gear on and ready. It was significantly colder here than the Arizona desert back home and they were already feeling it. Julien was off to one side, fumbling with his pack, trying to get the straps adjusted correctly on his bony frame. For the boy this was always awkward because his left hand was mangled, a twisted ruin that was hardly useable.

This was an old injury, one Julien had already had for a long time before he and Remy had finally met. This wasn't a gift from the infamous Jason Frost, it had come from the boy's abusive step father. Jerry Tanner had been a harsh man, despising the boy not just for being another man's son, but also for being a mutant. One day it had all come to a head and Jerry had dragged a fourteen year old Julien outside, managing to smash his left hand with a large mallet before Julien had been able to defend himself. The man had intended to destroy the right hand as well but it was then, under understandable duress, that Julien's full inheritance from his true father came to the fore. Without meaning to, Julien had charged the hammer with kinetic energy – the first time he had ever done such a thing - and it exploded, fatally wounding the stepfather. Fearing he would be charged with murder, Julien had fled to the streets and ultimately, right into the clutches of Jason Frost, the man who had made Julien's mind the twisted wreck the X-men were so desperately trying to fix.

Julien had since undergone two small surgeries for the damaged hand under the guidance of Hank McCoy, the X-men's chief physician, in order to regain some use of it but it was slow going. The bones had been shattered years ago and had never been reset, they had healed just as they were and there wasn't a lot of hope it could be fully restored. Hank had supplied him with a brace to better stabilize the hand and keep it from injury, but it didn't make the hand any more useful. To aid in that, he was going through a rather painful physical therapy program as well. Julien was stoic about it, enduring the pain with little fuss. He still believed that he had received a just punishment for his crime, for the sin of being not just a mutant, but also a murderer.

Julien was still fumbling with his troublesome pack when Hercules, bored already, came up to him all the better to gruffly sneer, "Need a hand with that, Judas?"

Julien didn't bother to look up at him though he had seen the large green mutant come closer –- Hercules was kind of hard to miss - but his reply was quick and sharp. "Not from an ass kisser like you."

It was Hercules who had given Julien the codename 'Judas' and it was because of him that it had stuck fast. Julien, for his part, was so contemptuous of the would be leader that he accepted the codename and ran with it, refusing to let Remy change it. No, instead he embraced it, pleased that it set him apart from the others. It was like turning the other cheek to an undeserved slap - by accepting it, it exposed Hercules perfectly for the bully he was.

How Julien despised Hercules and his constant schmoozing and kissing up to Gambit in order to curry his favor. Even in all the time he had spent with Frost, Julien's obedience with the powerful man had come from a twisted sort of love, not from a desire for prominence and privilege.

Frost had taught him plenty, the first being that the more mutated a person looked, the deeper their sin. As far as Julien was concerned, Hercules' biggest sins were pride and vanity. Hercules had done little to change that opinion even after both kids had been removed from Frost's care. Hercules was an arrogant bully and since he couldn't pass for human, Julien figured he had gotten what he deserved. Frost had also taught Julien emotional discipline, that suffering was good and a source of spiritual purification. Hercules had never suffered as Julien had and as such Julien had no respect for the lad, only disgust. Hercules could sense this and it drove him nearly mad. Julien was supposed to be the one groveling, not feeling superior.

One of the reasons Remy had chosen Julien for the team in the first place was the hope that he might somehow redeem himself in the eyes of those he supposedly betrayed, Hercules in particular. So far it seemed the pair was going to be antagonistic towards each other for a long time to come until some kind of compromise could be reached, something Remy had serious doubts about happening.

Hercules fisted his hands in response to Julien's haughty tone and TrueBlood laughed eagerly, anticipating what he hoped would be an entertaining fight. TrueBlood, with his scarred face and angry eyes often looked a bit rough around the edges whether he was in uniform or not. Remy had noticed many times the slight bulge in his jacket that betrayed the fact that he had a pack of smokes stashed away in one pocket. That and the long shock of black bangs that often hid the ruined half of his face just screamed 'rebel'. With his face so badly marred, he could never pull off the pretty boy act and so had gone for the James Dean look instead. At home he was dressed in ripped up blue jeans and ragged T-shirts.

Trigger was all too ready to join the party as well and came up, offering to take bets. "I'll put ten on the Judas."

"No way," TrueBlood joked. "Hercules is going to squash his boney little ass."

Trigger just laughed at that. He wasn't any more of a fan of Hercules' drive for power than Julien was, but it was for different reasons. He thought of power grabbing as a waste of time and stupid. There was so much more than could be done with one's time – like getting laid or getting drunk.

Trigger was a younger disciple following in TrueBlood's rebellious footsteps. He was a bit more polished in his tough boy fashion design. He never smelled of smoke, but the reek of alcohol came off his skin often enough during rough practice. The black leather of his uniform was not a new look for him - when not dressed for practice he was all ripped jeans and black leather accessories, including a studded black dog collar he seemed especially fond of. His hair was longer than TrueBlood's, falling in a curly heap just above his shoulders.

"Never underestimate the underlings," Trigger cautioned playfully, though he was speaking from experience in spite of his apparent youth. "Judas there has the whole Trench Coat Mafia thing going on, he just hides it well. He's the kind of kid that just pops one day and brings a gun to school."

Hercules didn't like the discussion at all. He was inwardly pleased with TrueBlood's faith in his ability to squash the smart ass little pipsqueak, but saw Trigger as someone who needed to be put in his place. Hercules turned from Julien to address Trigger directly. "And what would you know about trench coats or guns, you pansy ass little faggot?"

That got Remy moving, heading towards them to break this up before it got out of hand. He had heard some ugly whispers, mostly from Hercules, that Trigger might be gay since he was so standoffish and frequently dressed in leather. There had been some underhanded jokes that followed suggesting that maybe he should ask Kimble and Aiden for advice in that regard or even for an official deflowering. Remy knew better however, he had many times caught the lad watching Grace's ass as she walked by. That and Remy knew it was no accident that on the way here the boy had taken the seat next to Izzie, the pretty little purple fairy girl.

It was this same ugly talk of "who might be what" amongst the kids and even some of the adults that had made Kimble so shy about coming "out" to the world at large. The Siskans had been manufactured by a promiscuous race and so were just as promiscuous by deliberate design. Now they were living with a people that seemed to have a new hangup or rules about what was allowed and what wasn't at every turn. They were constantly fighting against their programming in their attempts to fit in. Kimble's trust levels of this society were pretty low. Remy did his best to keep Kimble away for this and was quick to punish any signs of bigotry in his team. He wouldn't stand for it in drills and he wasn't going to let it slide now.

Before Remy could get close enough to disrupt Hercules' challenge, Kyle made his own displeasure known, this time a lot less quietly than he had in the Dragon. Kyle had been squatting quietly all this time, leaning against a nearby tree as he watched the kids verbally joust amongst themselves. He now stood up, clenching his clawed hands into fists and coughing a rough bark in warning at the boys, showing more than a little fang.

The reaction to Kyle's unexpected outburst was mixed – most of the kids silenced at once and shrank back. Kyle was no stranger to the squad, they had seen his bright orange prison coveralls when he came to practice and knew where he was sleeping. As much as Trigger and TrueBlood dressed like punks and tried to give off an air of cool dangerousness, they all knew Kyle was the real deal. He had supposedly done unspeakable things and probably would again, given the chance.

Still, true to his own recklessness, Trigger couldn't stop himself from sniggering and sing songing, " 'Who let the dogs out?' " in harmony with the popular song. He had found Kyle's barking funny and momentarily forgot just how stupid it might be to say so aloud.

Done with fooling around – not that he had been all along, actually – Kyle briskly changed direction and moved towards Trigger with deadly or at least harmful intent. What Trigger had failed to understand in spite of all the background information the kids had been given on Kyle and ferals in general, was that teasing was seen as challenges to their dominance. One thing Kyle had done a lot of in his time was protect his place in a pack and had done so against far more fearsome opponents than these young punks. Already wound up some from the remarks made by Gryfon, Kyle was more than ready to show someone, anyone, that he wasn't going to tolerate being pushed. He was more than strong enough to do it.

"Quit de shit!" Remy snapped with a sharp clap of his hands for emphasis, finally reaching the end of his patience. First Gryfon, now this. They were wasting so much time. He boldly stepped in between Kyle and Trigger, inwardly hoping that Kyle would back down and not put his body armor to the test. Remy had never been in a position where he had to bring Kyle down and though he had been known to wager every now and again, wouldn't put high money on his ability to do so without serious injury. Still he was the boss and unlike Trigger, he remembered all the feral training he had been given. As with Gryfon, the boy had to be put in his place and hard or he would always be challenging Remy at every turn.

Lucky for Remy, Kyle reacted instantly to the dominant male in front of him and froze in mid stride, claws out, panting heavily as his brain suddenly, almost painfully, switched gears from a pleasant morning kill to obedient submission. "Mrr!" he snarled, unable to contain his vocal frustration as well as he could his body from moving.

"Back off!" Remy barked and Kyle did so, retreating a few steps and opening his hands. His shine was dark with colors, though. The body might have obeyed, but the desire to hunt was still there, barely held in check. It was time to get this show on the road, Kyle needed the distraction to quiet those darker urges and they needed to get this done.

Gambit turned to the group and let his disappointment rain down on them all. They were not usually this disorganized and snappy with one another and Remy was damned if he was going to let this become a regular habit with them. "Espere! Look at y'all! You can't even take t'ree steps wit'out 'avin' a fight. How you goan ever catch de bad guy, you all fightin' like a bunch of little enfans?"

Hercules, ever the ass kisser he was, was the first to raise his hands and back off. He was more interested in performing well today and making a good impression than knocking Julien down, something he could do at any time. "Sorry, boss."

"If you was out dere, alone an lost, is dis de way you'd want yo' rescuers to be actin' on deir way to savin' yo' ass? Bickerin' so much amongst deyselves dat dey don't get one damn t'ing done? Really?"

"No, boss," Hercules replied again, getting it. "It won't happen again."

Remy nodded and waved a hand, getting this started. He gave the kids a quick debrief of the situation, explaining that Logan had gone missing and that they were tasked with finding him. This was just a drill, but it was going to be a challenge to their skills so he wanted them to make a good show of this. That done, he gave the first order, "Kyle, you out front. I want you on point and trackin', tell me what you see."

"Mrr!" Kyle agreed and eagerly took off in a fast trot, crouched low.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes – Yeah, Liz, I know the chapters seem short, lol. I would post a whole book at a time but I am stalling in order to get the last book in some semblance of order. It certainly doesn't seem all that polished right now and only half the pictures are done, up from none from just a couple of weeks ago, lol. Not to mention the unexpected project of having to go back and put in all the missing separations in my earlier posts. What a nightmare. I feel bad for anyone who tried to read Through the Looking Glass without them, especially the parts where Gambit is reliving Kimble's old memories from Siska. Think about it, I have to skim every single chapter I ever posted here. There's like a million! Crikey!

(Four)

Once Kyle set the pace, the group moved quickly into the woods. Now that he had finally been given a task to perform that he was actually suited for, Kyle's mood picked up considerably, his shine sparkling bright with happiness. It smelled so wonderful out here in the crisp clean of the woods, not like the canned, recycled air of the Complex. These were real trees, true old growth woods, not some man made, half hearted forest that replaced what had been cut down. While most folks wouldn't know the difference, his feral sense of smell was just too powerful not to. This was as close to heaven as he had come in a long time and he was relishing every moment of it.

He could hear all the animals around them, nestled deep in their burrows, he could hear the flapping of small birds in the branches above them, taste the fresh snow in his mouth as it kicked up from his nimble hands and feet. There was no greater bliss than this and he couldn't hide small little yips of excitement from leaking out around his heavy breathing as he moved. It was the old call of the pack, letting the others know he was on the trail and to come and join him in his hunt. He was dressed the lightest out of the whole group – thin black pants, light boots, a Thermalite fleece parka vest with the team colors, no gloves or mittens. Like Logan he wasn't the least bit troubled by the cold, his body was generating its own heat as he moved effortlessly along the trail.

Remy was pleased to see the colors of intense joy racing through Kyle's shine even if he wasn't so sure of the cause. He knew that back home Kyle wasn't the happiest of fellows, spending most of his time either confined or taking orders from someone. He had very little control over his life and it must be difficult to live that way. Here he was free, doing what he had been meant to, nose to the ground, skillfully tracking his prey.

Kyle wasn't just genetically suited to this kind of work, he had also been highly trained for it during the years he had spent inside the Weapon X program. He had fared little better there than Logan had, barely surviving that rough military lifestyle. Kyle didn't take orders well and suffered when harshly treated, something Remy knew well from reading the kid's file. While he hadn't been given fine details, he had gleaned enough from it to understand that Kyle had to be handled delicately. Shouting in his face or beating him to force him to behave wasn't going to work. So far Kyle had been flourishing under Gambit's much gentler hands, becoming more and more civilized as the days passed.

Remy slowed and looked behind him when he heard Trigger's rough laugh. The boy didn't laugh cheerfully, it was almost always from observing someone being picked on and this time was no exception, Remy quickly saw. Hercules was once more teasing Julien who had fallen quite a ways behind and Trigger was amused by it. It was disappointing.

Remy's team was composed of a lot of runaways and they had a lot of catching up to do both educationally and in maturity to match the other squads who had spent most of their lives in the Xavier system one way or another. Gambit had done that deliberately, choosing those prospects who had been rejected from other teams or had simply been overlooked as useless. He had hoped that by selecting these kids and carefully working them that they might be the best of all the squads or at least the most hard working since they had the most to prove. They would at the very least be the most notorious or would stand out, of that Remy was sure. He did hope it was for overcoming the most odds and not for crashing and burning. So far it had been mostly working as well as planned. Remy's kids were doing better academically than they had previously since they had joined, the smarter girls had seen to that by tutoring the slower boys. The maturity was a different matter, however, and it was slowing them down among other things.

Most of the kids he had chosen had been rejected from other teams because they either couldn't pass the starting requirements or couldn't keep up in class. Remy was doing his best to work around this by going outside the box. Instead of the usual calisthenic drills, he took them rock climbing in the Complex's Solarium. They took modern dance lessons, Pilates, and yoga classes. Remy flew them to exotic locations in the Dragon 2 and had them hike for hours in the woods, the jungle, and on endless beaches on deserted islands. They played many games of baseball, street hockey and soccer. These techniques were working. Their physical abilities were improving all the time but most of all the kids were having fun. They wanted to come to practice if only to see what new thing the Thief and his Siskans had come up with for them to do.

However, in spite of this the weaker members of his team were all still struggling when it came to athletics, poor scrawny Julien in particular. Other than Hercules, Gambit hadn't chosen them for their physical skills and it showed at times like this.

Remy called a halt and walked back to Julien, passing a harsh look to Hercules on the way. This was the part Remy liked least about running a squad, the endless bickering and politicking between the kids, the jockeying for perceived positions of power. This boy wanted to be a leader in this group and usually stood up for anyone who lagged behind, but never for Julien whom he still considered a traitor in every sense of the word. He wanted Julien off the team in the worst way and was forever pointing out his many failures. This repeated behavior frustrated Remy who felt that anyone seeking a leadership position should lead by example and not single people out just because he didn't like them.

Julien was slogging his way through the knee high snow, breathlessly stumbling along even though a rough track had been dug out by the kids who had preceded him. His head was down from exhaustion and he didn't even notice Remy coming for him until he had nearly plowed into him.

Gambit held his arms out and caught the boy who stumbled and almost fell right into them. He couldn't stop himself from comforting his son in as low a voice as he could, he didn't want the others to hear. "Easy, fils. You breathin' too damn 'ard."

Julien at first sagged there, his breath coming in ragged pants, but then he recoiled away once he fully realized who had caught him. "I'm fine!"

Remy let him go, trying not to show how much it hurt that his son still wanted so little to do with him. How light he had felt there in his arms, still so bone thin. He had gained some weight since he had joined the squad but it seemed like it was never enough. As it was they were still unsure even of how old the boy was. He claimed to be eighteen but his body, so stunted and starved, looked more like fourteen. Fourteen fit Remy's time spent better with the boy's mother, but there were extenuating circumstances – the boy had spent time in a pocket world where time was a bit funny. It really was possible that he was older than he looked, but with the inconsistent birth records, nothing could be certain.

Remy had taken Julien to see Hank numerous times about his health problems but the big blue doctor still wasn't sure of the cause of his perpetual malnutrition, other than to speculate that it might be because Julien was an energy producer like his dad who sometimes struggled with the same problem. All the doctor could do was recommend feeding the lad as much as he would eat and keep him exercising. Hank's best guess hadn't satisfied Remy but it was all they had for now. He put those thoughts aside for now and suggested, "We all takin' a break. You should eat something."

"Molly fed me before we left."

_Good for her_, Remy thought. His wife was always so thoughtful. Still he reached into his own Away Pack and took out one of the two good sized protein bars that were always stored in the packs as emergency food. There were really tasty, peanut butter and chocolate, and it was sometimes hard to keep them in stock because they were too easy to simply snack on. All the kids had them including Julien. Remy didn't see why they would need to fall back on them this time out but still preferred that Julien keep his own as spares just the same. "Eat dis anyway."

"I don't need it," Julien protested, turning away and slogging forward towards where the others had gathered, his legs clearly shaking from the effort. The last thing he wanted was his dad pointing out his weakness in front of the whole group to see.

"It wasn't a request!" Remy hissed at him, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to halt. He then gave him a half shove, forcing him down to sit on a tree stump that was conveniently there to receive him.

The boy went down on his ass with a startled grunt, the protein bar shoved into his hands with authority. Julien snarled something ugly under his breath but Gambit let it slide when he heard the wrapper being opened.

Remy walked back to his tracker, his face dark with frustration. He was annoyed with his son for being so stubborn but also annoyed with himself for being so short tempered. It was more than Julien's uncanny ability to press his buttons so easily, it was also the cold, he knew it. The expression '_when Hell freezes over_', how he hated it. As if the cold would be an improvement. Hell for him was a white, frost covered, snow ridden environment such like he was in right now. The longer he was out here, the more aggravated he was becoming. This was sucking big time and the last thing he needed was a bunch of unruly teenagers snapping at themselves. Still he had to be better than this, he had to be better than they were.

He had actually finally managed to calm himself down, a good thing, until he heard Hercules grumble to TrueBlood, "We should have just left him behind. He's a complete waste of time."

Gambit turned on him sharply, his anger rising up again like an ugly red beast. His loss of control showed as he snarled, "Are we goan be bitchin' de whole way? Cause I can just as quick run all yo' sorrowful asses right on back home and call up de other kids dat was too tired to show. Bet dey all up now. Dis ain't no Kindergarten!"

Hercules blanched at that, or at least as much as a green skinned mutant could, and took a step back, his hands up once more in surrender. It wasn't like Remy to swear and it made it clear that this time he had gone too far. He didn't know if the threat was real or not and didn't want to find out the hard way. "Sorry, boss."

Remy looked at him hard, remorseful at his own loss of control, but it was too late to take it back now. Perhaps he could use it to teach instead. "Look, de only way dis team is goan work is if we all pull together. All of yo' talents work together like pieces of a puzzle, like all de parts of a bridge dat cross over a valley too deep fo' just one of you to cross alone. De stronger kids gotta hold up de weak, not just de ones dey friends wit. Life works like dat and so is bein' on a team. In dis 'ouse, we leave no one behind, hien? If you can't 'andle dat den you in de wrong place, son. Comprenez-vous?"

"I get it," Hercules replied, just trying to placate his irate team leader. It didn't mean he was willing to be best buds with Julien or anything, just that he was recognizing Gambit's position of authority.

Remy could see it and it didn't improve his mood. "Den act like it or you're done."

With that Remy walked away back over to Kyle, his back turned so he wouldn't have to see the look of shocked surprise on Hercules's face. Hercules was stunned at the idea that he could be cut from the team and that was just fine with Remy, the kid was getting too big for his britches and he needed to be unsettled a bit. The boy was getting too comfortable with his popularity and oversized ego.

After a few more minutes of rest, they resumed their way along through the trees. They were all a lot quieter than they had been before, cowed by their leader's short temper, and made good progress. Remy halted them next when they finally reached the small clearing where Aiden had met his unexpected visitor. Remy stood at the rim of the trees, pausing thoughtfully for a moment as he read the scene before him. He didn't like it, not one bit. The snow here was very disturbed and it didn't look like it had been done by passing animals. Someone had tried to cover up what had happened here, but not well enough.

Remy waved a hand and called out, "Kim?"

The Siskan stepped forward at the ready. "Aye, Cap'n?"

"Take a look see over 'ead. Don' touch nuthin', sil vous plait? Just fly over and tell me what you see. Don' want us walkin' out into some kind of trap."

Kimble nodded and jumped up into the air, mindful of the branches all around. He wasn't the only one in the group who could actually fly, Gryfon could as well, but in this case Remy trusted him best at least for this preliminary peek at their situation. Kimble drifted up high and then out over the clearing, shielding himself protectively just in case. Remy's voice had been calm, but there was enough unease in his shine that Kimble wanted to be prepared.

Gambit was still issuing orders, making good use of his resources. "Dewy, use de birds. Tell us what dey see."

Dewy nodded and closed his eyes, focusing out with his mind. The woods were quiet to the ear, but filled with life that he could readily sense. He felt the mind of every small creature within his short forty foot range and tapped into them, doing his best to try and meld the images into one cohesive picture. Unlike Kyle who could merely sense their presence, he could actually see what they saw, feel what they were feeling. They weren't telling him much at the moment, only that the squad was out here by themselves as far as he and they could tell.

It didn't mean there wasn't anything out here to learn. Kimble had by now drifted out to about the center of the clearing, keeping his seven foot height from the ground. Something caught his eye however and he stopped suddenly, dropping down quickly and disobeying Remy's direct order by reaching down to pick up something from the trampled snow.

Remy recognized what it was even from a distance - it was a piece of Aiden's shredded black and pink parka. Alarmed now, Gambit raised a hand and shouted out to Kimble in warning, but even he could see it was too late. Kimble was dislodged with a startled grunt and it was someone else in his place. Zander had come out and he wasn't fooling around, he had already conjured his glowing sword and was looking around, searching for a target.

Aiden wasn't the only damaged Siskan in Remy's possession. The most common defect amongst these sentient holograms was personality separation, they just couldn't hold up to the psychological abuse their Masters always seemed to dish out to them even though they hadn't been designed for it. Aiden had been shattered the worst of any Siskan Remy had ever heard about – being forced to fight for money will do that – but he had been repaired well enough that his voice was the only real giveaway that anything untoward had happened to him. He was still his own person.

Kimble hadn't been so lucky. He had been shattered as well, though into fewer pieces, only four as compared to Aiden's twelve. Unfortunately the repairman who had reintegrated him hadn't been so skilled as Aiden's. Over time, Zander, Kimble's more violent and protective personality fragment, had been slipping back out on his own. Luckily he was only popping out in situations like this where there was some kind of threat to those he cared about and he felt the call to action.

Kimble's being split wasn't the same as a human being split. In human cases the inner selves most often were unaware of each other. Kimble's broken selves, on the other hand, had at first conversed with one another internally as if he had a whole committee in there. It had driven him nearly mad and the subsequent repair did fix some of that by putting two of those fragments into a deep dark sleep from which they hadn't woken from since. This left Kimble mostly in charge but Zander, however, was much too powerful and motivated to be silenced so easily. Of course one thing Zander thrived on was physical and defensive training. All the team work that he had been going through lately with the squad was feeding him in its own way, even if he hadn't popped out until now to say so.

The sword Zander had conjured was his best weapon. It was in reality a hardened telekinetic shield just as Aiden's spikes were but Zander took it one step further, he had learned how to charge this weapon with plasma energy from his own body. This was called Channeling and Remy had seen Zander use this energized weapon to kill more than once.

"Uhm... what just happened?" shy little Tilda asked warily from behind Remy's left shoulder. While Kimble's body hadn't changed shape, the personality shift was obvious even from a distance. Zander simply stood taller and prouder, he carried more authority and it showed. His voice was different, though he hadn't yet spoken aloud for them to hear – it was deeper and far more gravelly than Kimble's smooth even tones.

Zander had been scarce these past weeks since Remy had been training his squad and this was the first time any of the kids had ever seen him fully in charge like this. Remy had been happy enough to see Kimble stay in control all that time, but now because of it he had no easy means of explaining the change to this group, nor did he have the time.

He didn't look back at Tilda, but answered her question as simply as he could. "It's too complicated fo' de time we got here, so I'm just goan say dat Kim's mind is split and leave it at dat for now, eh? 'E won' ever 'urt any of you when 'e like dis. Stay 'ere. It'll be okay." He then stepped out into the clearing, his hands raised, wordlessly asking for Zander's patience.

Remy had good reason to be nervous. Zander was the embodiment of gentle Kimble's suppressed rage from years of abuse and violence came easy to him. He was quite comfortable with murder and Remy had seen him kill more times than he ever wanted to. Zander had another name as well, one he easily deserved – he was The Punisher and he didn't hesitate to act as judge, jury and executioner all at once when given the opportunity. Thing was, without knowing the situation, it was simply too dangerous to have Zander out here jumping to any conclusions that just might be wrong. It would be difficult to interrogate the skewered.

"Easy, Zandy. We all just got 'ere, eh? Relax," Remy ordered, keeping his voice light. He had to be careful, Zander didn't always respond to his authority like Kimble did. Zander backed off only when he wanted to. He and Remy had butted heads more than once and Remy had spent a lot of time trying to figure out better ways of getting Zander to do what he wanted. What he really needed to do was point Zander in a direction and use him instead rather than trying to fence him in and hold him down. Remy had learned that this was the same problem that Kyle had had with his handlers in the past and Remy was all to happy to use the same techniques that were working on bringing Kyle out of his shell on Kimble's more aggressive self. Instead of Remy always insisting that Zander give up control back to Kimble as he might have done in the past, he now tried to reason with him instead. "T'ink about what you doin' out 'ere, homme. Dere ain't no need fo' gettin' angry and gettin' off track, eh? We don' even know what's goan on yet. How about you start wit' givin' us another good look around?"

Zander turned towards Gambit, his sword still raised and an angry sneer on his lips. He wasn't quite ready to take orders just yet. He thrust out the scrap of cloth he had picked up in a tightly clenched fist and complained, "You said this wuz just suppozsta be some kind of game. Well it shure as fuck ain't!"

Remy nodded, knowing his earlier concerns had obviously been justified. Trouble was that he'd had that conversation with Aiden, not with Kimble. Zander wasn't in love with Aiden, Kimble was, but Zander would unhesitatingly protect what belonged to his weaker, other self.

Remy tried to keep this from getting worse. "Je sais, I know, but mebbe Aiden's just playin' along, d'accorde?" He didn't really believe that, but he didn't want Zander to go off rampaging with his sword either. "See if you can find anyt'ing else out dere, sil vous plait. Help us out."

Zander made a face at that, sensing Remy's doubt. He couldn't be lied to easily. Still, he was taking some comfort in the fact that Remy wasn't fighting him or trying to shut him down. It calmed him some and he did as he was told, searching the snow for any more clues that he might have overlooked in his anger.

"Uh, boss?"

Remy turned in annoyance when he heard the question from behind him. He had his hands full with Zander, he didn't want the interruption. "Quoi?"

"What the heck is this?" TrueBlood asked, holding up a what looked like a thin icicle. "It's cold but it sure isn't ice. The trees are full of them."

"Fuck!" Zander shouted abruptly, recognizing what it was at once. He vaulted back up into the air and floated back away to the furthest treeline, flying in a slow backwards defensive circle, now searching the entire perimeter for potential threats. He had good reason to be wary. Aiden only used the spikes when he was in real danger, never frivolously. It took too much energy to make them. Thing was, the team couldn't be sure if the threat was still here or not.

It wasn't the first time the kids had heard Kimble swear but when it came out in Zander's guttural, anger filled voice it had them all in defensive positions faster than Remy could bark the order himself. The squad moved forward and formed a circle, the weaker members in the middle, a perfect defensive formation. Remy couldn't have been more proud of them at that moment. All the joking and complaining was gone, these kids were ready to rock if they had to. It was the best sign he had gotten so far that all those endless hours of training were actually paying off.

Now that Remy knew for certain that this was no drill, he was upset with himself. Because he had been taking this as an exercise for the most part, he had dallied a bit getting out here. How much time had he wasted on instruction and getting his crew in line? He wouldn't have done things this way if he had been more certain. Well, there was no taking it back now. He got back to work and asked, "Dewy, anyt'ing?"

"Not that I can see," the lad answered, his voice tight with fear. "I think it's all clear."

"Bien. Mebbe we just missed it den. Kyle, you next. Move out slow, tell me what you see. Zander cover him." Remy wanted the second opinion because he could see that Dewy was so nervous and scared that he couldn't be sure the boy's testimony was reliable. Good thing he had more than one way to find out information on a complicated scene like this one.

Kyle obeyed and cautiously crept out into the snow on his hands and feet, his nose low to the ground. He hadn't said much earlier, but he had picked up a lot just while they had been hanging around. "Mrr! Two people..." he announced right off. "Wolv'rine and someone else... mrr! A stranger..." He moved out a few more feet and then bent down farther, actually taking a bite out of the snow at his feet.

"Someone's thirsty," Hercules joked uneasily. He had been trying to keep quiet as Remy had ordered him to earlier, but he wasn't sure if all the fuss between Remy and Kimble was just grandstanding or not. They had been out here with Logan all this time, if this was a game they might be in on it as well. He couldn't deny the fear that was chewing at him though. He was no coward but still, with little actual field experience he was a little jumpy. It lessened his patience for what he was perceiving as theatrics by Kyle and Kimble and it was grating on his nerves.

Remy was about to silence the lad for kidding around at a bad time but froze when Kyle's shine swirled with bright color, a reaction to whatever he had just tasted. Kyle's head jerked up. "Mrr! Blood!"

_Crap! _Remy cursed internally again. How much time did he waste lollygagging out here with the kids? "Is it Logan's?"

Kyle stamped his hands and feet in place, something he did when he was frustrated. "Yes... but no. Mrr! Something's wrong... "

Hercules snorted derisively under his breath, still trying to behave and failing. "What kind of tracker is he?"

Remy raised a hand, silencing any further complaints Hercules might have said. He was watching his tracker work it out. Kyle was licking more snow, his shine growing more and more excited. Some of it was the feral hunger aroused by the blood itself, Remy knew that Kyle was at heart a cannibal and this blood was human. Kyle dug into the snow and raised another of Aiden's spikes, this one tinged deeply red. Before Remy could stop him, Kyle put the tip into his mouth and sucked the blood off of it like he was eating a popsicle.

"Gross!" Hercules whined, unable to keep that silent. He had been trying to obey his leader and keep his mouth shut, but the blood tasting was just too much for him. He found it too unnerving.

Remy reached behind him and snatched at Hercules's coat, giving him a swift, short yank in correction, all the while still keeping his eyes on Kyle. "What you got, Kyle?"

Kyle stamped his hands and feet again. "Mrr! Not Logan.. but his.. taste... Lung wound, not a smoker... mrr! Male... eats lots of fish..."

"Remy, come on!" Hercules protested, keeping his voice down because he was still tight in his squad leader's grasp. "This is bullshit. This guy doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Kyle never lies," Grace answered to that, her eyes still on the trees.

Grace had no sooner spoken the words when Trigger cried out and crumpled to the ground. Just as fast Dewy and Tilda went down next. Remy had expected the much older and supposedly more experienced Gryfon to cover the kids, but instead he was dismayed to see the rat bastard leap high into the trees, leaving the squad behind. The kids who had been struck were the ones closest to Remy and the Thief was no sooner exposed when he felt a sharp sting in his neck. He never had a chance to comment, he simply fell down into a sudden deep dark black.

**(break)**

Zander shouted in frustration when he saw his squad mates all begin to fall. He had already shielded himself telekinetically and so wasn't all that surprised when he heard the thunk of a tiny dart hit his shield and stick there, suspended in mid air as if by magic. His quick mind noted that it was a small silver needle with a tuft of red on the end, feathers. A tranquilizer gun meant that whoever this was wasn't fooling around and knew something of what this team was capable of. It wasn't coincidence that the heaviest hitters had fallen first.

Well, not all of them. Kyle was on the move, he had turned right around and was heading to the left and through the trees to where the darts were coming from. He had a couple of the brightly red tags sticking out of him but they weren't slowing him down any. He was pissed off and it was jacking up his metabolism, letting his healing factor take care of the sedative. He launched himself up into one of the trees and climbed with furious speed, his finger claws gouging deep grooves into the trunk and sending bark flying.

Zander lost him in the branches and he flew closer to the tree Kyle had chosen but kept back, ready for anything. Zander touched down in the snow down underneath, hoping that peering up would give him a better view of the action, but it was still hard to see exactly what was going on, there were too many branches in the way. He heard Kyle roaring and snarling, it was one heck of a fight going on up there, and then Kyle came tumbling down to his left from pretty high up and hitting the ground with a dramatic thud of crunching snow.

Kyle hadn't fallen alone, he had someone in his arms now and the brawl continued unabated on the ground. Kyle's guest was dressed in black military clothing, now all ripped and bloody from Kyle's less than gentle ministrations. He had been hidden well in some kind of platform blind up in the tree, the reason why Dewy's birds had been unable to see him. Perhaps with more training Dewy might have done better, but he was still just a new recruit and had much to learn. Parts of the blind the fellow had been using came tumbling down with the struggling pair, snapping and breaking on the way down in a cloud of dead of leaves, shredded canvas, and crumbling tree bark. A long sniper's rifle came down with them, harmless now that it was out of the hands of its user.

The man Kyle had so skillfully extracted from his lofty refuge was the same fellow that Aiden had encountered earlier, the slim Asian with the Mohawk. Apparently, he had needed no help for this particular round up. If the guy had brought along more friends than the one accomplice Logan had seen, they were now nowhere to be found and hadn't come to any call of distress. He was on his own at the moment but didn't seem the least bit deterred by it. He never cursed the inconvenient and no doubt painful fall as a lesser man may have done, no, he simply made his next move, changing his tactics for the new terrain. He expertly rolled to his feet, separating himself for a moment, and the fight continued, changing to the ducking of punches and side stepping around the trees.

Zander had dodged the tangled pair when they had fallen down from above him, trying to stay out of it for the moment, and was forced to move aside more than once as the fight took up more and more real estate under the tree. Zander laughed at the absurdity of it. He wasn't taking it that seriously just yet and was more than happy to let Kyle have his fun.

As the pair continued to battle, Zander began to realize his mistake. He noted the brilliance of the stranger's shine just as Aiden had done - this was usually a sign of someone who was a rapid healer or was mostly invulnerable to injury. Their life force was that much more powerful and it most often came on out in their shine, a handy clue to have in a fight. For Zander, it let him know it was better to deal with this quickly instead of letting it messily drag out. Kyle, a regenerator himself, had a shine just as bright. If Zander were to just let them duke it out it would likely be a long and pointless fight.

Zander got right to work, he boldly stepped in and grabbed Kyle's opponent by the long ponytail of his Mohawk before giving him a rough toss, finally separating the pair. It proved to be something of a mistake. A well trained fighter, the man simply hit the ground and rolled right back to his feet as he had before. Now that his hands were free, out came a small black handgun from a holster attached to his waist. He had two guns there, one on either side, each one different from the other. The one he held now was no dart gun and before Zander could stop him, the guy fired three high caliber bullets into Kyle's chest and face, throwing up a crazy artist's painting of gore on the trampled snow. He then turned the weapon on Zander, firing rapidly without even waiting to see if Kyle had gone down for good, which of course, he had.

As the bullets bounced uselessly off of his ready telekinetic shield, Zander watched Kyle go down from the corner of his eye. He compartmentalized it for the moment, not letting the rage swamp him. He knew Kyle was a healer and would probably be okay – eventually. Zander had only one thing on his mind now and that was taking down this freak. He approached the man with all of the menace only a truly pissed off Siskan could muster and, spitting in his irritation, demanded, "Where's Aiden?!"

It wasn't that Zander was unconcerned with the rest of his squad, it was that of them all only Aiden was actually missing. Zander had no doubt he could take down this pathetic scrap of a man, he could simply just spike his ass or worse, but he just didn't want have to tear the woods apart afterwards, looking for Kimble's lover.

"Oh, he's around..." the man replied in a lazy tease, a sly smile twisting his lips, his slanted Asian eyes merry. If he was the least bit frightened by Zander's display of anger, it certainly didn't show in his shine.

Zander had a mind to change that. He twirled his sword and grinned widely now, sure to show his fangs. He could have recharged his sword but left it alone for now. Plenty of time for the big kill later. He wanted information first and was still confident that he could do so without resorting to overkill. "Best if ya bring him on out now. It ain't such a good idear keepin' me waitin', boy!"

"If you want him," the man teased, grinning himself now. "..come and get him!"

With that, he vanished in a burst of speed Zander hadn't imagined the guy capable of. It wouldn't be the first time Zander had let his cockiness get away with itself, allowing him to underestimate an opponent. He cursed and gave chase, following the footsteps in the snow.

He hadn't gone far when he saw a large white, heavy duty pickup truck parked in the snow. It had a truck cap over the bed begging to be looked into, but there was this pesky little scrawny scrap of a human to contend with first. The man was at the cab with the passenger door open and was rooting around inside.

Zander was still on his feet and charging towards the vehicle when the man turned to face him, a different kind of weapon in his hand. In it he now held a slender Samurai sword.

"Seriously?" Zander chided arrogantly as he came to a stop, flexing an arm and twirling his own Medieval Knight sized broadsword. "What're you plannin' ta do with that? Pick my teeth?"

The man just laughed and the sword moved swiftly in front of him in a rapid series of exercises that looked to be more flash than substance. If Zander were more of a coward, he might have been intimidated by all that grace and style, but all it did was fuel his amusement. He spread his arms in invitation and playfully challenged, "If ya dare..?"

The man came at him and Zander blocked the first strike easily, but it quickly became apparent that the man's lighter weapon gave him the advantage – that and he was much better trained in its use than Zander was in his own. It was looking like all that flash and pop the young man had shown him earlier hadn't been just for show after all. Zander was a big bruiser, a hack and slash kind of guy. He did not possess the ability to dance and swerve and flow with such speed as his opponent did. The only thing that kept this from going from bad to worse was that Zander was able to maintain a telekinetic shield about his body, a secondary armor his opponent did not possess. As it was, the guy was doing little else but tiring himself out while evading Zander's wide, heavy arcs.

The man danced in, trying to get close, but Zander kept him at bay. He tried a different tack, baiting the Siskan with his mouth instead. "You are at least putting up a more spirited fight than your pretty little blonde friend," he teased, trying to get a rise out of Zander. "He went down quick, begging for his life."

Zander wasn't about to fall for it. He just grunted a laugh and teased, "I doubt that. There ain't but one thing Aiden ever begs for and that's a _**good... hard... fuck**_." He placed special emphasis on the last three words, stepping in a bit closer all the more to pin the man suggestively with his eyes, his mouth wide and hard. "But I doubt a pipsqueak like you would be up to the job."

His opponent just laughed, charmed. His shine swirled with colors Zander did not expect. Most men of battle shared a common homophobia, seeing it as a sign of weakness, of femininity. This man had no such concerns, an interesting twist. He was at least.. _**familiar**_.. in some way with this form of love. "And you are?"

"Oh, I always am," Zander returned, his smile changing into something more menacing, a promise of how he might be willing to give a demonstration, one this fellow might not enjoy. He let the not so empty threat stand out there, waiting to see what the guy would do with it.

The man stepped back and laughed again with true merriment, taking a moment to wipe some sweat from his chin. Zander let him take the break, he was much too fascinated by what he was seeing in the guy's shine. There was still no fear but what Zander had taken for a sort of receptiveness to untraditional lovemaking was actually something else, something darker. This man was no stranger to brutality, he had in fact often been the wielder of it. The man had related to Zander's true threat – one of domination and cruelty, not that of sexual intent – and Zander had an idea that this guy was far more used to being the giver and not the receiver of it. This man knew little of mercy and kindness because so little of it had been shown to him. A monster made, not born. His shine was speaking to Zander, it had a glimmer that was saying, _**I have been the victim before, but no longer. Now, I am the bringer of pain and you can't scare me. Not one bit.**_

Busy now, Zander cataloged that tidbit of useful in formation away for later. Intimidation of a sexual sort wasn't going to work so it was back to business with the swords until he could think up something else.

His opponent was up for it, offering strange praise as they continued to parry back and forth. "You have an interesting choice of weapon. It is nice to see someone use a sword, it happens so seldom these days. With a little practice, you might even be able to actually use it."

Zander laughed again, seeing at least a hint of good nature woven into the words. "What better time than now, eh? Teach me sumpthin', boy, or just lay it down and get it over with."

They circled around for a couple more rounds, but were interrupted by a series of electronic beeps. The stranger's watch had chirped.

"You out of time or sumpthin'?" Zander teased, amused by the reminder that as bizarre that all this was, it was still taking place in the real world.

"No, my friend," the man replied. "But you are. So endeth the lesson."

Zander had no chance to ask for clarification because from that moment on things went suddenly and terribly wrong. A sudden arc of electricity spread over his shield, seemingly coming from out of nowhere, blinding him. In all this swordplay and mucking about, Zander had failed to recognize that the second gun the man had affixed to his belt wasn't a handgun at all, but a Taser, one that could work from a distance. The plan had been to bring it out when Zander got in a bit a closer but the Siskan hadn't allowed him near. What Zander had lacked in finesse, he had made up for in sheer power and fearlessness.

Now reminded that he was on a schedule, the young man had simply tried to see if the weapon might work even though the Siskan was shielded. It couldn't hurt, right? The fact that it was the perfect weapon of choice for battling a Siskan was pure fluke, but it worked wonderfully. He pulled the trigger and two electrodes shot out, attaching themselves to Zander's telekinetic shield with a thunk and a happy buzz.

Zander's shield did keep the electrodes from actually hitting his skin, but sadly it also conducted the released electrical charge quite effectively all around his whole body, doubling its effect. He was a Siskan trapped in a lightening storm that he had no escape from. Zander howled as he was overcome and his legs gave way, crashing him to the ground. He seized violently, thrashing in the snow in a frightening display of control lost. This was why Remy had placed Trigger, an electricity producer, on the team as a failsafe. No Siskan could withstand such a jolt and Zander was no exception.

Gel gushed from his mouth and nose like vomit as he flailed, spraying out in a mist not unlike blood. It shimmered brightly in the snow, glowing there a moment or two before vaporizing away, just as his sword was now gone. His skin actually flickered off and on like a light switch out of control, color to no color, back to color again, betraying his mechanical origin. Zander jerked and twitched a few minutes more finally growing still, his eyes half closed and his sides heaving for air.

The man approached him slowly, still distrustful. He had arched an eyebrow at Zander's flickering skin, but gave no other sign of surprise. He crouched down and dabbed his fingers in a bit of gel slop that still dripped from Zander's chin. He grunted to himself in recognition, remembering this from his earlier encounter with Aiden. There was something different about these two, and yet they were the same.

He didn't get much time to reflect on that interesting fact. He heard some branches snapping behind him and turned just in time to see Kyle leaping for him, his face and chest bloodied but now mostly healed. Zander's fooling around had bought him some time and Kyle had recovered enough from his earlier mistreatment enough to come back for a second helping. He had stripped down for more speed in the snow and he was now reduced to just his pants, the snow the last thing on his mind. They collided and rolled in a now familiar dance.

If the young man was startled to see Kyle come so unexpectedly, he gave no sign. Really, his orders had been to collect them all so Kyle's coming to him saved him the bother of having to backtrack for his body. Still, this time he was taking no more chances. He broke free just long enough to run for the truck cab once more, enduring a vicious raking of claws down his back.

He fumbled and reached for the virus gun just as he felt Kyle's teeth sink into the back of his neck. He managed to fire off a couple of rounds backwards but point blank into the boy before falling exhausted and face first into the snow. He squirmed and shuffled, crawling under the truck itself, his slanted Asian eyes watching as poor Kyle dealt with the new round of abuse he had just been dealt.

Kyle had fallen away, releasing his attacker. He now gasped and writhed in a twisted heap, just as Zander had done, his body just as out of control. These were no ordinary bullets. The wounds burned like fire and the pain was intense and unbearable. A bomb had gone off in his chest, a nuclear blast had exploded right behind his eyes. He was screaming even as he choked on foamy vomit that spilled from his mouth and splattered all about him. His back arched painfully back as he thrashed and his eyes rolled back to the whites before he fell black with a strangled, pitiful wheeze. For Kyle, this fight was finally over.

**(break)**

Whatever thoughts Remy might have had about Gryfon's cowardice at fleeing the scene, they were somewhat misplaced. Yes, he had run away – or rather flown – from the initial attack, but it had a real purpose. He wasn't the sharpest guy but even he could tell that whatever this was, it was going to be really bad. As he had scrambled away he had fumbled for and quickly found the small ring of keys he had stashed in a nearby pocket. One of the fobs there looked like a modern car key with a chip, but what it actually did when activated was send a noiseless, wireless automatic signal back home that something was terribly amiss. It wasn't something that was to be used as a joke or in simple drills so he knew that once received, it would be taken seriously. Gambit had possessed a similar device, but had been taken out too quickly to use it. With the team going down so decisively and without warning Gryfon had to be the quick thinker and get the alarm out, even if it meant temporarily leaving the others behind to their fates.

Well, the plan had been for that abandonment to be only temporary, but when he saw Kyle and Zander take on the bad guy themselves, well good ole Gryfon got to thinking maybe it was best if he just stayed back and let them handle it. These were tough fellows and supposedly more than capable of taking one guy on his own down. Gryfon watched the fight dispassionately, not even the least bit concerned when Kyle went down the first time, his face blown apart by high caliber bullets. He knew the small scruffy fighter could heal.

That all changed when Gryfon next watched the bad guy retreat down the path into the trees with Zander gleefully following him, merrily dashing off to who knows what trap the man had waiting. See, that was the difference between an experienced man like Gryfon with years of combat training and a new recruit that only had a few months. Gryfon was certain that all of this had been planned by the bad guy and that none of it had occurred by accident. That was what this former Gold Member's keen eye could see, and he absolutely believed it.

Stupid Zander, that unfathomable idiot. Warren wasn't dumb, nor was he unobservant. He had seen Kimble many times at practice and Kimble's skills were supposedly the same if not lesser than as Zander's were. It was the same body after all. The same memory drives. Kimble had spikes, he had powerful shields and barriers, he could lift and throw heavy objects great distances from himself. Likewise, there were so many things Zander could have done to end this quickly and safely, he was that same powerful telekinetic after all, but his arrogance and inexperience had led him to choose badly. Zander had wanted to play, to draw this out for what could only be some sick kind of perverse pleasure, for the thrill of the hunt perhaps. There really hadn't been time for that kind of horseplay here, Gryfon was thinking bitterly.

How many times had Remy placed these strange Siskan creatures up on some pedestal, like they were somehow better than their fleshly counterparts? What could possibly have driven the Thief to ever consider raising Kimble and Aiden to positions even higher than the prospects on the squad? To even use them as trainers? What a fool. These guys had no more field experience than the kids did and therefore should never have been allowed the status they now held. It had been misplaced, they were unworthy of promotion and Zander's current display of recklessness was only proving it.

Zander was now out of Gryfon's sight and Gryfon was stuck with a difficult choice – stay as he was and continue to exploit the fact that he had been forgotten, or follow Zander to see if he needed any help. The second choice would no doubt bring Gryfon out into the open and then he would be exposed. He wasn't sure he could handle their attacker, not on his own. Of course all he had to do was delay the fellow only long enough for help to arrive. He just wasn't sure if he was capable of even doing that.

The problem was solved when below him, in the snow, Kyle's battered and mangled body twitched and slowly came back to life. Gryfon couldn't help but be impressed. Half the man's face was in rags and there he was awkwardly scrambling to his hands and feet in a drunken daze. Gryfon couldn't help but wonder how much of the guy's brain was gone, his coordination wasn't entirely there.

No problem, Kyle's anger was doing most of the work for him it seemed. The more parts of him that got moving, the louder he was growling, a tortured grumble of pain and fury. It raised chills up Gryfon's spine but at the same time his feral heart leapt with joy at the sound of it. Like a Beagle's howl at catching a scent, it was companion sound, a call to arms for the pack and Gryfon heard it. When Kyle finally found his feet, he threw off the rags of his tattered vest and gave a ragged, stumbly chase, one that left blood spattered behind him in a haphazard declaration of impending doom for the one it was aimed at. Gryfon forgot all concerns and followed him from above, leaping from tree to tree and gliding with ease.

Oh dismay and calamity. This was what Gryfon felt next as he took in the scene by the white truck. Zander was down, unconscious and laid out like a plucked chicken ready for the pot, limbs all tossed out as if he had been thrown aside with the careless anger of a spoiled child.

Kyle, if he had taken in any of this, showed no surprise. He was at full charge now, as feral red as the blood that flew from what remained of his foaming mouth. He launched himself in a superhuman leap and took the intruder by his back but it was all for naught.

As much as it had been stupid of Zander to fail them, it was now even more so for Kyle. The boy supposedly had many years of specialized training under his belt, he should never been taken down so quickly and with such ease. Here now was what had kept him from going up the ranks of military service as Logan had done. His rage and reckless dash for revenge had earned him only more shots to the chest, this time from a weapon that Gryfon did not recognize but was no doubt far more effective than the previous pistol had been. Down Kyle went, his agonized and tortured body a perfect crumpled match to Zander's own.

Gryfon fully expected their attacker to turn his attention to him now that Kyle was down again, but it didn't happen. The guy just laughed as he crawled out from under the truck where he had been hiding, his torn back and neck already healing. He gave Kyle's limp body a rough kick just for spite before simply grabbing him and tossing him into the back of the truck. Zander was next to be added and just like that, the stranger was back in the truck and in reverse, returning to where Remy and the kids now lay helpless in the snow.

Gryfon cursed under his breath and checked his watch. Damn. This had all gone down so quickly. As fast as the Gold Squad could scramble under pressure, it could still be at least twenty minutes before they got here. He had to do something.

He flew as quietly as could, following the truck back to where the squad still lay so helpless in the clearing. Their attacker was working quickly, grabbing the unconscious kids and heaving them into the truck as fast as he could, being less than gentle with the much heavier Hercules. The guy was strong, it wasn't taking him much of an effort though he was much more winded doing this than he had been while battling Zander. It had been a long day for this fellow and it was not even much past daybreak.

Gryfon hesitated, unsure of what to do. He needed to stop this guy but he had no desire to get a dose of the same punishment that both Zander and Kyle had received. The specialized gun the man had used on Kyle was on the man's belt now, taking the place of the Taser that had been discharged and rendered useless. Gryfon had serious doubts about his ability to survive a shot from that gun, whatever it was.

When the last body had been loaded, Gryfon checked his watch again. Damn, still not enough time. If a rescue was coming, they were being a bit slow about it. This guy had to be delayed and it was now or never.

As the man closed the back of the truck and moved for the cab, Gryfon sucked it up and gave it his best shot, for good or for bad. He swooped down, trying to be as silent as he could, his hands outstretched, the gun his main target. If he could at least separate the guy from that weapon, he might actually have a chance to save the day after all.

Sadly, he wasn't as silent as he had hoped. The man turned towards him as he came, smiling as he said, "Ah, there you are."

They collided painfully, chest to chest. The momentum of Gryfon's flight unexpectedly carried his head over the other man's shoulder and his face smashed painfully into the driver's side glass, shattering both it and his nose. Dazed as he was from this clumsy landing, his hands had managed to find their target – the man's still holstered gun, and he did not let go, even as his companion grunted and twisted, trying to get free from Gryfon's much larger body that now pinned him against the vehicle.

Both men grappled for the gun, swearing and snarling as they thrashed. The stranger was weaker than Gryfon, or so it seemed, and relaxed his hold little by little, giving up an inch at a time. He finally tilted his face to meet Gryfon's own, smiling as he did so. "Come now," he soothed in a voice as smooth as velvet, "There is no need to fight me. We can settle this in a more.. _**civilized**_.. manner, yes?"

Gryfon met his eyes and snarled as he offered with sarcastic generosity, "Sure. How about you just let my friends go and leave? No harm, no foul."

The man just laughed, amused by it. "A tempting offer to be sure, but then my Master would be so displeased. Perhaps we can think of a better way. Look at me, my pretty. We can talk this out. Just you and me."

As he spoke, the man's eyes bored into Gryfon's own. At first Gryfon was mystified as to what the guy intended, but the longer he looked, the deeper he stared, the more Gryfon felt his urge to fight simply slip away. He couldn't explain it, it was just that strangely the man's words seemed to make sense. Fighting was silly, wasn't it? It had never solved anything in Gryfon's life, in fact it had always seemed to cost him dearly. What was the point?

"Wha – what?" Gryfon stammered lamely, oddly bewitched and unable to look away. His anger had dissipated and all that was left was a sense of a deep and perfect peace. All of those dark and ugly urges he had been holding in check these past many days simply vanished, leaving him empty. Quiet. Serene. It was a pleasure beyond measure.

"You fight so hard when there is no need," the man purred, daring to release his hold on Gryfon enough to reach out and gently stroke back the loose feathers that had fallen into Gryfon's eyes. He was a mess from his impact with the window, blood was oozing from his poor broken nose and his eyes had already started to blacken with fresh bruises. "Shh... easy now," he continued to whisper, his voice so soft and gentle. And then he leaned in gently planting a tender kiss on Gryfon's lips.

In the real world, where everything made sense, Gryfon would have been throwing this jerk right off of him, his homophobic heart going into overdrive. But that didn't happen. Robbed of his urge to fight, washed in a warm and fuzzy cloud of absolute bliss, that one kiss meant everything. It was all going to be okay now, everything was so wonderfully peaceful and quiet. It had been so long since anyone had touched him so tenderly, had held him so closely, had touched him without pain. There was no greater bliss than this...

The stranger chuckled softly, feeling it when Gryfon actually swooned – yes, swooned - in his embrace. His next movement was so swift the human eye wouldn't catch the entirety of it but it was oh so devastating. The hand that had stroked those feathers so lovingly back came to rest on Gryfon's right shoulder and then just like that, dug right in and spun him around violently, the man's other hand grasping Gryfon's wrist. The turn was so shockingly sharp it not only dislocated Gryfon's shoulder rather neatly, it also snapped his forearm in two places.

Gryfon howled as the brilliant burst of pain shocked him right back into reality – _was that guy just kissing me?! What the fuck?! _But by then it was too late. Gryfon's legs buckled from the sudden change in mental gearing – from absolute peace to sudden bewildering agony – and it was enough that his attacker gave him a separating shove, pulling the weapon they had just been fighting over out from its holster. The man broke from mere amusement into real laughter then, even as he fired a single round low into Gryfon's back, choosing a non lethal shot on purpose but one still resulting in significant injury.

Gryfon screamed anew and stumbled to his knees from the impact of the bullet, almost tumbling face first into the snow. The pain was immense, burning, consuming, numbing him from the waist down. If he had thought the breaking of his arm was bad, this was ten times worse. He had been thoroughly defeated without fully comprehending why. Had it only been just a couple of minutes since he had flown down from the trees? Was it less? This was ridiculous. Infuriating.

While the all encompassing pain might have weakened someone else, it filled Gryfon's feral mind with red instead. Blood and pain, oh he had been given it and he would have it back in spades and then some if he could manage it. His intense and terrible rage was uglier than the pain and it allowed him to temporarily overcome the wickedness that was chewing into his guts like an angry swarm of fiery bees on the loose. He blindly lashed out behind him with the one arm that still worked and smiled with satisfaction as he hooked his prey deep in the left calf with his long finger claws.

Gryfon pulled that calf towards him with as much violence as his attacker had given him and laughed with his own malicious glee as it jerked the man right off his feet, landing his Asian ass right in the snow without an ounce of dignity. Gryfon then turned and simply heaved those parts of him that were still working right onto the fellow, using his torso to pin the guy down even as he sank his teeth into the meatiest bit of flesh he could find. The red had taken his mind and he was clawing, scrabbling and biting like a rabid machine, his body just doing its primal best to stay alive, to punish, to kill this little jerk of a man for totally ruining his day.

Screams, rewarding and glorious screams came from below as Gryfon's mouth filled with salt and blood, an elixir that at least momentarily allowed him to forget the ever spreading numbness and heat that was migrating out from the deep slug of molten horror in his back. He had scored and scored well, his teeth striking the man right in the neck just as Kyle had done. Guttural sounds of pure animal joy leaked out around his tightly clenched teeth, a cheerful revenge for the kiss he was hoping he could someday forget. In that moment he was the closest he had ever come to relating to Logan's feral mind, a man he had thoroughly hated from the moment they had first met. Too bad he was too far gone to realize or appreciate it. All he wanted was justice, justice for what this man had done.

Sadly though, his attacker had too many advantages for this minor victory to last for long. As Gryfon's body was gradually weakening from the punishment it had been given, his opponent simply healed up almost as fast as he was being injured. Done with this, the Asian man finally popped claws on both hands and slammed them into the bigger man's thighs, hoping to miss anything vital. Under the best of circumstances he would have sunk them into Gryfon's sides and neck instead but there had been an order given – don't kill if you could help it. A message had been intended to be left behind for those who were surely on their way, but it couldn't be delivered by the dead. While he didn't normally allow himself to be so limited, an order was an order and he was for the most part an obedient creature. For the most part...

Gryfon never felt the impact of those claws, nor did he even see them that he might question how this man had come by those weapons in the first place. He was too fixed on his prey and now basically paralyzed from the waist down. That didn't mean the injury had no effect on him. The man had missed the artery as planned but major blood was still spilt. Gryfon's jaws began to relax as bright pretty spots formed and swirled before his eyes, a sign of serious blood loss. It was a sure declaration he was going to lose this battle and with that knowledge came a low whimper of angry protest from his raw and hurting throat.

Gryfon's strength was ebbing away quickly and he was powerless to stop it when the guy that had once been trapped below him finally rolled him off like a lover who hadn't quite satisfied and the roles were reversed. The slim young man was now on top of him, grinning back at him with a kind of savage glee. "Look at you," he purred, amused by Gryfon's last efforts to keep fighting. "I suppose you think of yourself as an eagle. Hmmm.. Even a griffon for real, one so savage and perfectly lethal, but alas...we both know the truth of you. You are chibi suzame, a tiny bird beating against me with your tiny, ineffectual wings. Well, goodbye, Little Sparrow. Perhaps they will let you be an angel for real up in Heaven."

With that he simply rose to his feet and fully healed now, casually walked away, leaving Gryfon behind, battered and shuddering with each breath on the cold, now hard packed snow. Gryfon was helpless, unable to even cry out any retort or protest he might have thought of on the fly. The cold now was seeping in with each new breath, even as the heat that was burning in his back was now boiling his insides, spreading like an evil virus ever higher, working above the numbed nothing that were his legs.

There was slam of the truck door and then the louder rumble as the vehicle's powerful motor was revved like a snarling beast. A choking cloud of exhaust blew into Gryfon's face and he coughed, spattering more blood out onto the already filthy snow. The truck began to move, the rear tire tantalizing close to Gryfon's outstretched hand. He twitched hard, flexing the talons of his bloodied fingers. It was all he could manage, a gesture no more threatening than the wordless curses that raced through his mind.

Gryfon's vision began to blur and he squinted, fighting it, a last ditch movement that for one second brought the license plate number into brilliant focus before washing away in a blur of tears.

_WEB 357!_ his mind screamed.

_And your point...? _he countered, feeling the blackness move in alongside him, promising a release of his pain. How glorious it would feel.

_You know what you have to do._

_I'm dying. _

_Big deal, you've died before. _

_Yeah, well, it's not like I have a pen handy, you know..._

_There are other things than ink. You can do this. You have to. _

He gasped again, his eyes opening a little wider. Was it vanity? Maybe. But it was a cold hard fact that even now as he was probably breathing his last, he still didn't want to be thought of as the poor deranged freak who had poisoned himself like an idiot chasing a stupid dream that had never come true. He was a monster. They all hated him, but he could do this one thing. This one thing to show them he was .. no .. that he had always _**been **_a soul worth saving. He was still a human being just like them.

He shifted, lucky that in all of his flailing about, his arms were now quite close to one another. The fingers of his one functioning arm were not yet so numb that they couldn't move. He managed to creep them up against the arm that lay limp and twisted in a way that limbs should never be. He took a deep breath and dug in with a claw, getting to work. It took a minute or two and it wasn't really pretty, but like the true Gold Team member he had once been, he got it done.

Exhausted now, he relaxed and breathed. When the black finally came for him, he didn't fight it.

To be continued in Riding the Night Train.


End file.
